The Quickening
by Richefic
Summary: Richie has to loose something in order to find out who he really is. Now Complete.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer. I know I know them from somewhere. But they aren't mine.

AN- This is a little something for the fifth season.

******

Methos scowled as he ducked out of the bright sunlight into the bar. Definitely seedy and tipping over the edge into downright disreputable. He sighed. The trouble with being Adam Pierson, mild mannered graduate student was that he was supposed to be perpetually broke. Most of the time he was happy to mooch beer off his friends and pass off the occasional indulgence as a legacy from a second cousin, four times removed.

This was not most of the time. This had not been a good day.

He wondered if Adam Pierson had any relatives that could stand him a night in a Five Star Hotel, with room service - a Jacuzzi -and beer that had been passed by the board of health.

He was sure he could think of one.

He had turned back to the door when the buzz hit him. His first instinct was to keep on walking. He didn't want to fight anyone nearly as much as he wanted a shower, a steak, and a drink or six, and not necessarily in that order.

He wouldn't find what he was looking for here.

Still, out of habit, his eyes swept the bar looking for the source of the buzz – and he frowned.

Pasting an air of casual nonchalance, over his rising irritation, he sauntered over to the booth in the corner. At first he thought he must be mistaken. The figure didn't even look up at his approach.

"Hello." Methos spoke icily.

"Mine's a beer please."

"What?" Methos wasn't sure that he had heard right.

"I said." The figure flipped another playing card into the dish on the table, "I'd like a beer please. If you are buying."

Methos swallowed and counted to ten. In Chinese.

"Do you have to practice to be _this annoying, or is it a natural talent?" he asked through gritted teeth._

At last the figure looked up and Methos was stuck by the dark circles around his eyes, which stood out in stark relief from his sallow complexion. His clothes were torn and dirty, a fact that he was trying to hide, unsuccessfully, by wearing an ugly yellow jacket that was two sizes too big.

"Well you can either buy me a beer or be on your way." The figure shrugged. "Because I can't fight you."

"Assuming that I wanted to." Methos slid into a chair. "Which I don't by the way. Why can't you fight me? Have you given it up for Lent?"

"There are rules." A shrug. "Holy Ground. One on One. Introductions. Ring a bell?"

"You don't know." Methos realised. "You don't know who you are."

His eyes flashed dangerously. "I know I'm Immortal. I know you're Immortal. I know how to tie my own shoelaces." He sighed. "I just can't remember my name right now."

"Do you have a sword?" Methos asked.

The blade that was suddenly pressed against his groin under the table answered that question. If the situation wasn't so, delicate, Methos would have risked a grin, as it was he didn't think moving was a very good idea. "Point taken." he squeaked, hoping to reassure. To his relief the blade was removed. "I said I didn't want to fight you." He pointed out a little miffed.

"Why not?" The sword was tucked away, but still clearly in reach. Methos didn't recognise the blade.

"Because I don't have to." Methos sighed, "Richie."

"Richie?" The kid looked faintly amused.

"What?" Methos couldn't think of anything about this situation that was remotely amusing. Except perhaps that jacket.

"Sorry." He shook his head. "Its just, you don't look much like a Richie."

"Not _me_." Methos said, exasperated. "You. You are Richie Ryan."

"_Oh_." Richie realised. "You know me?"

"Yeah. I know you." Methos smiled, standing up. "Come on."

Blue eyes regarded him warily. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because I'm the one with the credit card?" Methos raised a brow. "And you really need a shower."

"Funny guy." Richie still didn't move. "I don't know _you_."

"You definitely practise." Methos sighed. "No one can be this annoying. Look kid, I've spent the best part of the last week looking for you. I've barely slept, I've had to cope with Joe worrying, Macleod brooding and Amanda being _very_ distracting, I've been in and out of places like this! Now all I want is a shower, a meal, and a very large number of beers. Trust me. If you want to _keep your head you are coming with me."_

"You really know me?" Richie asked again.

"Not in the Biblical sense." Methos assured him.

"Please tell me we are not friends." Richie sighed, as he stood up.

"That I can do." Methos smiled. "Nice jacket by the way."

"Not mine?" Richie asked hopefully.

"Not that one." Methos reassured. "Although, you did have this spectacularly ugly green thing when you were 17."

"You knew me when I was 17?"

"No. I've seen the pictures." Methos grinned at the memory. "But I know some people who did. They've been worried about you."

"Hey." Richie realised as they made their way out of the door "What's _your_ name?"

"I could tell you." Methos grinned. "But then I would have to kill you."

"Of course." Richie sighed. "So. What happened to me?" he asked quietly?

"I don't know." Methos admitted. "But I intend to find out."


	2. Chapter Two

"You know. I'm going to have to call you something." Richie pointed out as he fell back onto the Queen sized bed. "Unless you want me to make something up?"

"Not." Methos recoiled from the very idea. "My name is Methos."

If he was expecting fireworks and the cascading arrival of Richie's memory he was to be sorely disappointed.

"Methos?" Richie squinted. "You made that up."

"Made it up?" Methos spluttered. "I'll have you know Methos is a very ancient and noble name."

"How ancient?"

"I forget." Methos pulled him off the bed and steered him towards the shower. "After the fifth century some things start to get a little fuzzy."

"Um. I think I'm going to be .." Richie just managed to fall to his knees in front of the commode before retching up thin yellow bile.

"That's not the reaction I was hoping for." Methos murmured, as he rinsed a washcloth under the tap.

"Sorry." Richie apologised, when he was done.

"You've not been eating much have you?" Methos passed him the cloth. Acutely aware that the Richie Ryan he remembered didn't let anyone fuss over him. _Except Macleod  Or maybe Amanda, given the chance_.__

Richie wiped his face and mouth. "Maybe I just are something I'm allergic to. Its not like I would remember."

"You're Immortal." Methos reminded him. "You don't have allergies."

Richie winced and put his hands to his head.

"Richie?" Methos crouched down beside him. "Are you OK? Did you remember something?"

"A racecourse." Richie scowled. "Maybe I am allergic to horses."

"Did you eat one?" Methos had no idea what the kid was talking about. He would have to check the Watcher records. He seemed to remember Macleod saying something about Richie, Amanda and a racehorse. Although it was always possible that these were Saul's memories.

"No I did not eat one." Richie shook his head. "Are you really five thousand years old?"

So the lad had been paying attention. "Yep." Methos passed him a glass of water.

"Thanks." Richie took a sip and eyes him over the brim.

"What?" Methos sighed.

"What happened to me?" Richie asked quietly.

"You tell me." Methos raised a brow. "You are the one who has been missing for the last week."

"I asked first." Richie insisted stubbornly.

Methos bit back a grin. The kid might not remember much, but he was definitely Richie.

"So, what do you know?" Richie demanded.

***

It was Joe, of course, who had broken the news. His face lined and grim.

"Mac. Have you heard from Richie lately?"

"Not today." Duncan didn't look up from the paper he was reading. "Why?"

"Not today?" Joe sounded surprised.

Amanda smiled. "What's the matter Joe? Don't the Watchers use text messages?"

"Richie texts you every day?"

"He knows I worry." Duncan's shrug belied his soft smile. Then he frowned. "Something up?"

"Richie was challenged last night."

"Who?" Duncan's tone was low and dangerous.

"Saul." Joe admitted unhappily.

Methos sat up a bit straighter in his chair. Saul was a seasoned Immortal. One known to be active in the Game, with several Quickenings to his credit.  "Oh? Who won?"

That earnt him a glower from Macleod and a disappointed look from Amanda. But Joe just shrugged.

"That's the problem. We just don't know."

"Excuse me?" Amanda frowned.

"They met on a bridge over the river." Joe explained. "It was dark, there was a storm, between the lightening and the Quickening, well we just don't know."

"I thought you people were supposed to be Watching." Duncan's tone was icy.

"What about the body?" Methos asked.

"It fell into the river. We've got Watchers searching the river banks, but so far .." Joe sighed.

"But you've found _something._" Methos guessed. Joe wouldn't have put Macleod through this for nothing.

"We found Richie's sword." Joe admitted.

"_Oh._" Amanda said unhappily.

"Did you find Saul's sword?" Methos asked.

"No." Joe scowled at him. _You are not helping. "I'm guessing he still has that."_

"Unless Richie has it." Duncan smiled thinly.

"Mac," Joe sighed. "I know you are a good teacher. The best. But Saul was centuries older than Richie. Do you really think he was good enough to beat him?"

"Mako wasn't exactly a bade in arms." Methos pointed out. "Neither was Kristov, or Culbraith and Harish Clay's Squire, whatever his name was, remind me again how many centuries older than Richie he was?"

"So if Riche won?" Joe wanted to know. "Why hasn't he been in touch?"

None of them had had any answer to that.

***

"So I fought this guy and well I'm guessing I won, since I still have my head." Richie pointed out. "At least, I assume its mine, since I _still_ don't remember."

"Its yours." Methos reassured absently. "As for the rest of it. I'm not sure."

"What. In 5000 years, you've never seen anything like this?" Richie protested. "What have you been _doing for the last five centuries?"_

"Staying alive." Methos shot back.

"Well there's a contribution to society." Richie sneered.

"Richie." Methos took a deep breath. "I know you're scared. But the truth is. I really don't know."

"I'm not scared." Richie protested.

"Richie." Methos spoke gently. "You don't know who you are, where you come from, or who your friends are. Of course you are scared. You'd be a fool not to be. And I happen to know you are a pretty bright kid."

"So. If you don't know what caused it?" Richie looked at the wall. "How exactly are we going to fix it?"

"I don't know that either." Methos sighed.


	3. Chapter Three

"You could just tell me." Richie stuffed another piece of steak into his mouth.

"What?" Methos looked up and smirked. Again.

"Will you stop that." Richie protested. "I mean I don't want to sound ungrateful or anything but you chose this."

"Is it my fault that the gift shop had nothing in your size but a sweatshirt that says "My friends went to Seacouver and all they bought me was this lousy .." Methos was grinning.

"I_ know_ what it says." Richie growled. "Just. Stop it. OK?" he put down his fork, blinking aginst the sudden stinging in his eyes.

"I'm sorry." Methos' tone was full of sympathy "You look like you. You sound like you. I keep forgetting that you aren't really you right now. You don't usually mind."

"It's just.. Right now you are the only friend I have and .." Richie swallowed.

"It would help if I was a little bit less of a git" Methos offered. 

"Yeah." Richie laughed in spite of himself. "Hey. Who knows. You might even like me."

"I already like you." Methos frowned. "What on earth made you think I didn't?"

"Um. Everything about you?" Richie pointed out.

"Riche, you are irritating, sarcastic and annoying. What's not to like?"

"Excuse me?" Richie scowled.

"OK." Methos sighed. "What I am trying to say is I do like you. A lot. You don't fall over your feet in awe at the fact that I'm five thousand years old. You butt heads with Macleod on a regular basis. Its only a matter of time before you get Amanda into bed. You may not be that old but most of the time you give as good as you get."

"I do?" Richie suddenly sounded oddly vulnerable and Methos gained a new respect for how hard Macleod must have worked to win the kid's trust. It felt strange to be on the other side of that wall.

"Yes you do." Methos assured him. "You've had some pretty rough times in your life, but you've overcome them, and you still manage to be one of the good guys. 

Frankly, I admire that." He sighed. "It isn't always easy to hold on to who you want to be."

"Thanks." Richie smiled shyly.

"You're welcome." Methos stifled an impulse to reach out and ruffle the kid's hair. _Oh Lord, I'm turning into Macleod._

"Except, I don't seem to be doing so well at that right now." Richie pushed his food around.

"We'll sort it out." Methos assured him. 

"So why can't you?" Richie demanded, chewing on another piece of steak.

"There are very few things I can't do." Methos informed him loftily. "Which one did you have in mind?"

Richie shook his head. "Why can't you just tell me? You obviously know me. So you tell me what I need to know. Problem solved."

"I don't think that would be a very good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because I have no idea what that might do to you."

"What?" Richie regarded him suspiciously.

"I don't know alright?" Methos protested. "I just think .."

"Think out loud." Richie suggested darkly.

"I think, maybe, that Saul's Quickening was too strong for you." Methos admitted. "I mean, you've taken some pretty strong Quickenings in the past. But not that many. And none of them were as old as Saul. Or as active in the Game. When you took his head I think the power of his Quickening interfered with the synapses in your brain and overloaded them."

"You mean I got a short circuit and the trip switch cut out?" Richie asked.

"Something like that. If I just tell you .." Methos shrugged. "I really think it would be better if you remember on your own."

"I guess I have time to wait." Richie threw down his fork. "Like a few centuries!"

"Richie .."

"I don't get it." Richie surged to his feet. "Why don't I remember anything _important_?"

"What do you remember?" Methos asked curious.

"Dur. English?" Richie gave him a look that would turn milk sour.

"Anything else?" Methos refused to be baited. "Any other languages?"

Richie sank down on the couch. "French. Pretty fluent actually. And Polish."

"Polish?" Methos blinked.

"Pretty much bi-lingual." Richie admitted.

Methos curbed his curiosity. That was a story for another day. "Anything else?"

"Oh. I have lots of skills." Richie scoffed. " I can ride a motorcycle."

"You were a pro on the race circuit. Pretty good actually."

"Really?" Richie looked pleased. "Thanks."

"Until you got killed." Methos smirked. Then held up a hand. "Sorry. Force of habit."

"Thanks." Richie threw a pillow at him. "I can scale tall buildings." He arched a brow as if expecting Methos to refute this.

"Second level entry B and E." Methos supplied. "You got arrested when you were fourteen."

"Does that also explain why I can pick locks and hot wire engines?" Richie asked.

"You've been busy over the last few days." Methos observed.

"What, you think I walked back here?" Richie scoffed.

"Why did you come back to Seacouver?" Methos asked. "I mean. You didn't know you lived here. You could have gone anywhere."

"I don't know." Richie admitted quietly. "It just felt .. right."

"It was." Methos affirmed, suddenly seized with the urge to do _something. _ "You need a coat."

"I do?" Richie looked at him. "Where are we going?"

"To meet a lady friend." Methos informed him.

"I'm amnesic, not ten." Richie protested. "You can leave me without a sitter. I don't want to come on your hot date."

"Its not a hot date." Methos insisted. "She might be able to help_."_

"Really?" Richie perked up. "In that case, I want something cool. You know. Maybe in leather ..?" 

Methos looked at the set of his jaw and just knew this was one fight he wasn't going to win. "Of all the times to pick to_ be_ a teenager. Alright. You can wear this." He tossed Richie his coat. "And people wonder why I always wear baggy sweaters." He muttered as he struggled to hide his sword.

"How long have you know this .. _lady__ friend." Richie smirked as he shrugged into the coat._

"Amanda?" Methos counted. "A few centuries."

 "Cool." Richie nodded. "Do you think she will have a friend?"


	4. Chapter Four

AN –Thank you to all the people who have been kind enough to take the time to write reviews of my stories (and such nice things too!) I've never published anything on the net before, so it great to know that people are actually reading it!

***

After ten minutes standing, in the freezing cold, outside the deserted bar, Richie decided that even the cool leather coat wasn't worth this.

"Is there some sane, normal, reason, why we aren't just going in the door like regular people?"

"Yes." Methos scowled at him. "Standing out in the cold freezing our bits off is soo much more fun."

"And back in the real world we are doing this because ..?"

"Because it is the middle of the night. The bar is locked and I don't have a key. Satisfied?"

"Well why didn't you just say so?" Richie shook his head. "Just show me the door and I'll pick the lock."

"Won't work."

"Why not?"

"Because you like the guy who owns the bar. You don't want him to get robbed and you installed a security system so good that you'd have to be Houdini to get in there without setting it off. Which is the last thing we need by the way."

"So how is this Amanda going to meet us here?"

"She's that good."

"Oh." Richie considered this. "Is there any chance she might have given me a few lessons?"

"Over Macleod's dead body." Methos scoffed.

"Because .." Richie flashed him a smile. "I have this really good idea."

****

Two minutes later Methos realised that he might have to reassess a few things.

"I don't suppose it is any good asking you how you knew how to do that?" he sighed.

"Nope." Richie looked around. "Hey. This place is pretty cool."

"Joe's a pretty cool guy." Methos acknowledged. "Macleod, on the other hand, is going to freak when he discovers you haven't been his blue eyed boy scout."

"Who's Macleod?" Richie squinted at him.

Methos cursed. He hadn't meant to bring that up so early. "He's your  teacher."

"Oh." Richie nodded. "So he was the one who taught me how to use a sword?" He asked innocently.

"Yes." Methos had the definite feeling that this was going somewhere he wouldn't like.

"To cut off people's heads?" Richie clarified.

"Well. Yes. In order to survive." Methos felt uncomfortably like he had to defend the Highlander's moral stance.

"But not to do a little B and E in the name of self preservation?" Richie finished.

"Well." Put like that, Methos realised that Macleod might well have considered that a touch of larceny was a useful part of the kid's education. It wasn't like he was exactly Snow White when it came to the appropriation of stolen goods. A certain Scottish stone came to mind. "I .." he paused. "Saved by the buzz." Methos muttered as Amanda emerged, beautiful as ever, from the stock room.


	5. Chapter Five

"Richard! You're alive!"

Amanda threw himself into his arms so hard that Richie was knocked back on his feet.

"Please tell me we have been lovers for centuries." Richie grinned appreciatively as he hugged her back

"Oh. You." Amanda wiped her eyes and kissed him softly on the cheek.

 "You haven't been around for centuries." Methos pointed out, helping himself to a beer and throwing one to Richie, before setting a cocktail, with a flourish, before Amanda, who settled onto a bar stool.

"How old am I exactly?" 

"I don't know _exactly_. But last time I checked you were twenty something or other."

"What?" Richie froze.

"A true child of the twentieth century." Amanda patted his leg.

"You are snowing me? Right?"

"You didn't know?" Amanda looked confused.

"Of course I didn't know. It just stood to reason that if I was Immortal, I had to be well _old._"

"Why?" Methos asked.

"Well .. you are."

"Sorry." Methos took a swig of his beer. "It doesn't work like that."

"Will someone please tell me what is going on?" Amanda complained. "Where have you been all week? Duncan was afraid you were dead and you know how much that upsets him."

"Why? How many times have I been dead before?"

"Richie. Shut up." Methos filled Amanda in on what he thought might have happened to Richie.

"Oh." Amanda frowned.

"Oh?" Richie repeated. _"Oh? C'mon Amanda, __sweetheart, my brain gets fried, and all you can come up with is__ Oh? Methos said you were the Princess of Plans, the Queen of Schemes, the Empress of Improvisation, you gotta help me out here."_

"I'm sorry Richard." Amanda shook her head. "I wish I could, but I've never heard of anything like this." She looked at Methos. "Can't the Watchers help?"

"Why didn't I think of that?" Methos wondered.

"You already looked didn't you?" Richie sighed.

"When you were in the shower." Methos admitted. "No Immortal of your age had ever been good enough to beat someone so much more experienced. Doesn't happen."

"I always wanted to be special." Richie picked at the label on his beer bottle.

"Stop that." Amanda pulled his hand into hers. "You are special. Remember when I first met you in Paris?"

"Actually, .. _no." Richie arched a brow._

"Yes you do. You just don't know it." Amanda reassured him. "You snuck away from some Art thing to take one more look at the Circus. I was practising somersaults on the trampoline." She wrinkled her nose. "I was just being .."

"Narky?" Methos offered.

"Provocative." Amanda tossed her head. "when I asked you to try it. I didn't expect you to take me up on the challenge."

"Or be so good at it." Methos smirked.

"Don't the Watchers have _anything_ better to do?" Amanda pouted. "Anyway, afterwards, when you were all cute and sweaty, you told me about how you met Duncan and a few of the jobs that you had pulled before that. You were bright and smart and funny and wise enough to know that Duncan Macleod was the best thing that had ever happened to you. Just like me and Rebecca. We have a lot in common Richard and that makes you very special to me."

"That and you made her  – what was it? $500 – on a bet that the skinny American could do a triple somersault." Methos tossed his bottle in the re-cycling.

"I did nothing of the sort." Amanda looked affronted. "It was $5000." 

"Amanda!" Richie's jaw dropped.

"Richard, I had every faith in you." Amanda patted his cheek. "Besides we split the money. It was a sweet little hustle. Our first job together."

"Does Macleod know about this Bonne and Clyde act you two have going?" Methos inquired.

"I never lie to Duncan." Amanda protested.

"I don't even know who he is." Richie swirled his beer.

"Anyway." Amanda continued as if she had never been interrupted. "The bet was best of three. The sting being that you would fluff the first two attempts, so we could try to up the ante and make some serious money. You were only supposed to make it _look_ bad .." she paused.

Richie had gone completely white and was blinking as if the light was too bright.

"Richie. Are you OK?" Methos asked.

"Honestly, Methos. I thought you used to be a Doctor." Amanda worried. "Didn't it occur to you that giving beer to someone with a head injury, might not be a good idea?"

"This isn't exactly a head injury, and its not like I can look up care and treatment of brain fried Immortals in any medical textbook." Methos snapped.

Richie waved his beer bottle at them impatiently. "I was only supposed to make it look bad .. except, on the second jump, I cracked my elbow on the frame, which scarred me for life by the way, and there was blood everywhere, it was so spectacularly awful, that you talked Guy the Gorrilla .. "

"Guido." Amanda corrected.

"Alright, _Gudio the Gorrilla into double or nothing and I nailed the jump."_

"And promptly fainted." Methos grinned.

"You remember." Amanda hugged him lightly.

"I remember _that._" Richie sighed.

"Nothing else?" Amanda searched his face.

"I remember you still owe me my share of the money, Amanda _dear." Richie grinned._


	6. Chapter Six

AN- Having received so many nice reviews, I'm now feeling really guilty that I have always been too shy to review other people's work, when I have enjoyed it, because it _really does encourage you to keep writing. Thank you. I hope people aren't getting bored that this is soo long – I promise that I do know how it ends! And by the way Isa .. of course Richie never died – the Dark Quickening I can accept – (although I do think Duncan would have tried_ harder _to find Richie) but Archangel? Don't think so._

****

Methos glanced at Richie as he slid the Hotel key card into its slot.

"You still don't look well."

"I'm fine." Richie gave him a lop sided smile.

"Sure you are." Methos muttered. He went over to the mini bar and consulted the tariff.. "How can they possible justify charging that for water?"

"So why not just get some from the tap in the bathroom?" Richie sank onto the couch and closed his eyes.

"Because you won't drink it."

Richie cracked open an eye. "I didn't ask for any water."

"Well you're getting some anyway." Methos searched for a glass.

"Why won't I drink tap water?"

"How should I know? You say its tastes funny."

Richie pulled himself up to accept the glass that Methos gave him. "You gave me tap water before." he pointed out.

"I know. I was taking advantage of you because you were sick." Methos looked down at him. "I wasn't going to pay these prices if you were just going to throw it all back up again."

"Gee. Thanks." Richie sipped, the water helped a bit.

"Headache?"

"Some." Richie admitted quietly.

Methos crouched down in front of him and carefully tilted his eyes into the light.

"Anything else? Any nausea or dia.."

"No!" Richie pushed his hand away. "Man. You really did used to be a Doctor didn't you?"

"Once or twice." Methos sat back. "I think you need to get some sleep."

"_That's_ your diagnosis? Are you sure you don't want to break out the animal entrails? Just to be sure?"

"Now you're getting cranky." Methos said with a perfectly innocent expression. "You need a nap."

Richie's response made it clear that his Polish, was every bit as good as he had said it was.

"That isn't anatomically possible." Methos informed him.

"Have you tried?" Richie suddenly looked interested.

Methos bit back a grin. Richie's mercurial attention span was one of the things he liked best about the kid. It kept life interesting.

"Richie. It's very late. You've had a rough week, you are clearly not well, and you are a bit out of practise at being sick. I really think that you need to get some sleep."

"Well. If you put it like that." Richie passed Methos his empty glass and made his, slightly unsteady, way towards the bathroom.

"Do you need any help?" Methos called, just to be mean.

"I still know how to use my sword you know." Richie's voice drifted back.

Methos grinned and rummaged in the mini bar for another can. It might have ridiculous prices but it also had beer. Another scout around turned up his paperback book. As he settled into one of the armchairs his gaze fell on the blade by Richie's bed. "Except, that's not your sword is it?" he mused thoughtfully.

****

Richie slept fitfully, tossing and turning in his sleep. When he woke his colour was much better. He said his head didn't hurt and Methos pretended to believe him.

"So, who's Joe?" Richie said tearing a croissant between his fingers.

"He's a friend and …." Methos paused.

"_And_?" Richie prodded.

"And a Watcher."

"Yours or mine?" Richie looked up.

"Neither." Methos shook his head. "Are you going to eat that?"

"Probably not." Richie sighed and pushed his plate away.

Methos pushed it back. "You need to eat."

"Its not like I can starve to death." Richie pointed out.

"Ever tried it?" Methos baited.

Richie decided not to dignify that with an answer. Especially since he didn't actually know.

"Trust me." Methos pushed the plate back. "You won't like it. So, be a good little Immortal and eat."

Richie made a face at him, but put one of the pieces of croissant in his mouth and chewed.

"So awr yoo goin tha call hmn ?" Richie mumbled.

"Don't talk with your mouth full." Methos said absently. "And, no I'm not going to call him."

"Why not?"

"Because." Methos looked smug. "I already did."

"Let me guess." Richie rolled his eyes. "Whilst I was in the shower."

"See. You _can_ remember things."

****

Given the late hours that he kept at the bar, Joe had not been pleased to best pleased to hear from Methos so early.

"You woke me up at this hour to ask me about Richie's sword?" his irritation came clearly down the phone line.

"Yes. I'm at the Mistrale. Can you bring it over?"

"Can I …?" Joe spluttered. "No. Damn it. I cannot bring it over_._"

"Joe. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

The silence on the other end of the line was almost deafening.

"You know something, don't you?" Joe said slowly.

Methos decided to forego the obvious answer. "Joe. Just bring the sword please. I'll explain when you get here."

"Is Richie alright?" Joe asked with sudden insight.

"Joe .."

"Is he ..?" Joe's tone was like steel.

"I wish I knew." Methos told him truthfully. "Are you coming or not?"

"Alright." Joe sighed. "But you owe me."

"Oh and Joe ..?" Methos caught him before he could hang up. "Bring some painkillers will you .. and beer."

"Painkillers?" Joe frowned at the telephone.

"And beer." Methos repeated firmly.

***

"This is a bit fancy for Adam Pierson isn't it?" Joe looked around the room.

"He's practising for his next life as a millionaire playboy." Richie commented dryly from behind him.

"Richie!" Joe exclaimed. "You're alive!" he hugged him tightly.

"Hey  um .. " Richie patted his back awkwardly and shot a panicked glance at Methos.

_Joe _Methos mouthed.

"Right. Yeah. Joe." Richie affirmed.

"Oh boy. Are you a sight for sore eyes." Joe held Richie at arm's length. "Are you OK? Where the hell have you been? Do you have any idea how worried we've been? We thought you were dead."

"Why do people keep saying that? Didn't anyone think I could take this guy?" Richie complained.

"I did." Methos popped a beer. "So did Macloed, come to that."

"You know you don't look so good, Rich." Joe realised.

"How many more times?" Richie threw up his hands. "I'm _fine. Geez I thought I was supposed to be the one with the memory problem."_

"Memory problem?" Joe frowned. "What memory problem?"


	7. Chapter Seven

AN - For those who don't speak French – escargots are snails – and drinking urine was a recognised treatment for all sorts of illnesses in Medieval Times, I didn't just make it up! (Bet that's got you intrigued!)

Thank you for all the nice reviews. I'm glad people are enjoying it (and don't think it is too long) and Southern Chickie, I promise Duncan won't be kept in the dark much longer .. Methos does have a good reason – but I doubt it will convince Mac!

**

"So you've never heard anything about anything like this either?" Richie's disappointment was evident.

"Fraid not Rich." Joe gave his shoulder a sympathetic squeeze, only to drop his hand in confusion when Richie pulled back in surprise.

"Joe, he doesn't remember you. " Methos reminded quietly.

"Sorry." Richie wouldn't look at him.

"That's all right kid." Joe smiled reassuringly. "I guess I forgot huh?"

"That's OK." Richie gave him a small, tight, smile. "I know what that's like."

Without asking Methos dug out the painkillers and automatically began reading the instructions.

"Um. Hello. Immortal here?" Richie scoffed. "Those aren't gonna work."

"If you can get headaches .. they can work." Methos pointed out. "But I suppose we don't have to worry too much about the dosage." He shook out twice the recommended number of tablets, shrugged, and doubled it.

"Here." He held out the tablets and the last of the water.

"I'm fine." Richie protested.

"Richie. Just take them." Methos sighed.

"Headaches?" Joe worried.

"Its nothing." Richie rubbed his temples. "Just the vacuum exploding where my memories used to be."

"You didn't do much science at High School did you?" Methos smirked.

"Like I'd know." Richie regarded him sourly.

"I think I might have a solution to that." Methos put down his beer.

"You do?" Joe wondered doubtfully.

"You _do_?" Richie demanded. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I am saying something." Methos pointed out. "What? You didn't find it _remotely_ odd that you could remember exactly _how _to prepare escargots but didn't have the slightest clue _why any sane person would want to do such a thing?"_

"You're the one with the medical degree." Richie scowled. "Or did they just toast your success with a nice glass of urine?"

"Don't knock it till you've tried it." Methos shot back. "Do you want to hear this or not?"

"Well, I do." Joe snagged  a beer and settled gratefully on the sofa. "I mean, if it was an actual brain injury, from the fight, he would have healed by now. Right?

"Right." Methos agreed.

"_But_ .." Richie prodded.

"But .. this isn't exactly a brain injury." Methos sighed.

"What? Will you get on with it? We don't all have centuries to spare you know." Joe pointed out.

"Everything Richie remembers is grounded in physical memory." Methos explained. "Language, co-ordination, B and E .."

"B and E?" Joe coughed on his drink.

"Your bar actually." Methos smirked.

"What the  .. You said that system was fool proof." Joe protested. "It cost me over $4000 bucks."

"Hey. What can I say?" Richie spread his hands. "I'm good."

"You're going to be a whole lot less good when Mac finds out you've been taking lessons from Amanda." Joe chortled.

"As I was _saying." Methos put in. "Everything Richie knows is linked to some kind of physical stimuli."_

"Even his Immortality?" Joe looked sceptical. "I mean, wouldn't he have to die, or cut himself, or something, first?"

"The major head rush." Richie pointed out.

"Ah." Joe looked at Methos. "So he remembers the physical stuff? But he has no idea what makes him .. him?"

"Exactly." Methos nodded.

"Excuse me?" Richie frowned. "He is right here you know? And he wants to know what the hell you are talking about?"

"Selective amnesia." Joe told him. "You've chosen to forget the memories that define you as an individual."

Methos winced and started to count under his breath._ One. Two. Three ..._

"Hey. I didn't_ choose_ to forget anything." Richie fumed, surging to his feet. "You want to try waking up – cold and wet – on a river bank – covered in blood – with absolutely no idea of how you got there – when the only thing you can find to keep out the cold is a jacket so ugly nobody had bothered to steal it whilst you were inconveniently out of it and see how you like it!" he strode towards the door, only to stop with one hand to his head and grimace in pain.

"Richie .." Joe struggled to rise. "Look. I'm sorry. OK? It was a bad choice of words .."

Methos wondered if repeatedly hitting his head against the table would disturb the people in the room below. 

"A bad choice of words?" Richie spun on his heel. "I'm sorry. Is there a good way to say its all in your head? Except, it isn't in my head, is it? Because, _I can't remember._"

"You can remember."  Methos assured him, taking him by the arm and steering him to a chair. "You just haven't yet."

"Oh? And that's supposed to make it all right is it?" Richie looked up at him. "Just wait a few centuries and it will all come flooding back?"

"Well, we could do that." Methos agreed. "Or we could help it along a bit."

Richie paused.

"I thought you said it was dangerous to tell me stuff." he asked carefully.

"I did. It is and I won't." Methos thought that covered all the bases.

"But you do have an idea?" Richie pressed.

"Didn't I say that already?" Methos queried. "I believe my exact words were "I think I might have a solution." I'm sure I heard me say that."

"Adam." Joe sighed. He wasn't usually even out of bed this early and here he was, already having a bad day.

"Alright." Methos tried to think of a way to explain this that wouldn't set Richie off again. The kid was already as white as a sheet. "You remember basic physical stuff but your more complex emotional memory has been overloaded."

"More complex." Richie carefully didn't nod. "I can live with that."

"So what we need is something grounded in your physical memory that also strikes an emotional chord."

"Once more, in English please?" Richie requested.

"An object that can help you to remember."

"What am I? A blood hound?" Richie scowled. "Are you going to make me smell my socks?"

"No." Methos shook his head. "I think we need to go with something a little more personal."

"Like a souvenir." Joe was nodding.

"Or a sword." Methos smiled triumphantly.

"Oh." Joe paled.

"What do you mean _Oh_?" Richie got there first.

"I .. um .. don't have it." Joe admitted uncomfortably.

"What do you mean you don't have it?" Methos repeated carefully.

"I mean I don't have it." Joe said testily.

"The Watchers sent it to you. Of course, you have it." Methos insisted. 

"First I_ did_. Now I _don't_." Joe snapped.

"Well, what the hell did you do with it?" Methos demanded.

"C'mon Adam. What do you think I did? I thought he was dead."

"You gave it to Macloed." Methos realised.

"Again with the he .. I'm immortal not invisible." Richie protested. "And just so we are clear? I'm a head taller than that other guy."

"And you couldn't have told me this before, when I asked you to bring it?" Methos asked icily.

"You asked if I would bring it over. You never asked if I still had it." Joe said shot back.

"By all the Gods .. Methos dropped his head in his hands.

"What's the big deal?" Joe demanded. "We'll just head over to Mac's and ..

Methos raised his gaze slowly and stared at Joe.

"You haven't told him." Joe realised. "You haven't told him that Richie is alive."


	8. Chapter Eight

"How could you?" Joe fumed. "You know how worried Mac has been."

"This isn't about him." Methos shot back.

"The hell it isn't .." Joe raised his voice. "Damn it Methos. He's not eating, he's barely sleeping, at this rate he's going to loose his head."

 "Um. Hello?" Richie put in. "I though you said Macleod figured I could take this guy?"

"What does that have to do with it?" Joe demanded.

"Well, if he thinks I'm OK, he shouldn't be worried." Richie pointed out.

"You really _don't_ remember anything do you?" Joe sighed.

"Mac worries." Methos explained. "Its what he does. Especially about you."

"Excuse me?" Richie scowled. "I can't be that bad with a sword. I'm alive aren't I?"

"Richie." Joe rolled his eyes as if this was an old conversation. "It has nothing to do with how good you are or how old you are .. Mac loves you, of course he worries."

"You make him sound like my Dad or something." Richie scoffed.

"Well, in a way he is." Joe shrugged. "You remember when you first met him?"

"Why do people keep asking me stuff like that?" Richie complained.

"Joe, I don't think this is a good idea." Methos warned. "You can't just tell him .."

"Have you tried?" Joe challenged.

"We don't know what will happen."

"Um. Let's see. He might _remember?" _

"Yeah." Richie agreed with a grin. "Amanda helped me remember _lots_ of things."

"And then you got sick." Methos reminded him pointedly.

"_Amanda _knows?" Joe gawped. "How the hell did you get her to keep that from Macleod?"

"Blackmail." Methos shrugged.

"Figures." Joe shook his head. "Richie, look at your right arm. Just above your wrist."

"Hey, I have a scar!" Richie announced peering at his arm. "That means it happened before I became Immortal, right?"

"Well, what do you know." Joe looked mischievously at Methos. "A physical link. You said he can cope with stuff if there is a physical link, right?"

"I don't believe this." Methos rolled his eyes. "Don't think I won't say I told you so."

***

"I broke into his store?" Richie's jaw dropped. "Why didn't he just shoot me?"

"The eternal question." Methos murmured. Richie poked him in the ribs to shut him up.

"Anyway." Joe ignored both of them. ".. in the .. um .. heat of the moment .. you offered to pay for the window you damaged."

"I did? I must have been nuts."

"Not really." Joe smiled. "Just really well motivated."

"Except you didn't actually have any money." Methos told him.

"So Mac agreed to let you work off the money by helping in the store room and stuff." 

"I try to rob him and he gives me a job?" Richie  shook his head.

"Well. You did know quite a lot about Antiques." Methos smirked.

"More to the point he knew you were going to be Immortal one day." Joe added.

"So what? I make a few commissions on the sale of some Venetian glass or something and Daddy Warbucks decides he wants to adopt me?" Richie looked sceptical. "Isn't that kinda weird? He couldn't just have found me some foster parents or sent me to school or something?"

"He was planning to." Methos looked up.

"He was?" Richie asked.

"He _was_?" Joe looked surprised.

"You haven't been watching." Methos smiled thinly. "Its what we do. Find them a nice, safe, mortal, life so that they don't attract too much attention, before their time. We _don't take them in." _

"There must have been _some .. I mean .. over the centuries." _

"Name one." Methos insisted.

"You know so much, you name one." Joe snapped.

"Macleod." Methos looked smug.

 "He's the only one?" Richie demanded. "What made him go against centuries of tradition?"

"You did." Methos smiled.

"After you got sick." Joe realised. 

"Oh right. Like that's always such an _attractive trait .."_

"Richie. You almost died." Methos informed him gravely.

***

 "I burnt my arm on the manifold?" Richie rubbed at the offending scar. "That's pretty stupid. Didn't anyone ever tell me you have to wait for it to cool down first?"

 "You were a little pressed for time." Methos quipped.

"_Oh._" Richie realised. "Did I get caught?"

"Not that time." Joe smiled.

"So, why didn't I just go to a Clinic or something and get it looked at?"

"You don't like Doctors." Methos' lips quirked.

"Now he tells me." Richie muttered sourly.

"It got inflected pretty fast." Joe gave him a sympathetic smile. "Its kinda hard to keep things clean when you are living on the streets. It wasn't long before you were getting a temperature and your arm was bothering you some."

"He made me work when I was sick?" Richie protested. 

"He didn't know." Joe said loyally. "You wore long sleeved T-shirts and told him it was a head cold."

"And he believed me?" Richie scoffed.

"Not even close." Joe smiled. "Did I tell you he was a Medic in World War One?"

"Not another one! Is there like mandatory medical training for Immortal 101 or something? Cos I'm not doing it." he paused "Although, Amanda as a nurse does have a certain appeal." He waggled his eyebrows.

"Sorry Rich." Joe smiled. "The best I can offer is a belly dancer."

Richie bit back a grin. "Thanks Joe, but Amanda is much more my type."

"Do you want to hear this or not." Joe growled.

"Sorry." Richie held up his hands.

"Anyway. Mac put you to work, just light stuff, moving empty boxes, dusting, that kind of thing. Frankly, you looked so thin and pale I wouldn't haven been surprised if a stiff wind had snapped you in two. Mac must have thought so as well .. because he kept feeding you soup and pasta and stuff .. and using the excuse of pizza and a movie or something to keep you back late so you'd have to crash on the couch."

"Why didn't he just make me go to the Doctors?" Richie wondered.

"Maybe because you wouldn't go?" Methos suggested.

"Besides, it was pretty obvious, you were going to be able to hold out for long." Joe observed. "Frankly, I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did. Mac didn't know whether to be proud of your courage or pissed at your stupidity when he realised just how bad it was." 

"How did he find out?" Richie asked quietly.

Methos gave him a sharp look. The kid looked .. scared.

Joe didn't appear to notice anything amiss. He grinned. "You were supposed to be dusting some of the things in the stockroom out the back and .. I don't know .. I guess you got dizzy or something and knocked over a vase .. there was this almighty crash ..  and when Macleod came running there you were sitting on the floor with these splinters of a thirty thousand dollar vase all around you and .."

" .. he hit me." Richie whispered.

"Richie?" Methos sat up. He was much too pale.

"I broke the vase and he hit me." Richie continued woodenly. "He took off his belt and he hit me."

Methos swore fervently. In the next instant he was kneeling in front of Richie, taking his face in his hands. The skin was cool and clammy._ Damn._

"No way." Joe protested. "Mac would never .."

"Not _Mac._" Methos informed him tersely. Not taking his eyes off the younger Immortal. "Richie, look at me." He commanded gently.

Richie stared at him through unfocused eyes. "He hit me .. over and over .. it hurt so much and there was blood everywhere and I cried and screamed and begged but he just kept hitting me. I was so scared. I thought .. I thought he was going to kill me."

"Richie!" Methos took his chin in his hands and forced him to meet his eyes. "Look at me." He gave the kid a small shake.

Richie gasped, sucking in air with a huge shuddering breath that wracked his whole body. "Oh _shit_." He shuddered.

"Are you alright?" Methos demanded.

Richie made a sudden retching sound and Methos had only seconds to scoot around to his side before Richie threw up what little remained of his breakfast and collapsed in a boneless heap.  

"I guess that answers that question." Methos murmured. 

He looked up at Joe. "_Now_ do you see why I didn't want to tell him?"


	9. Chapter Nine

"I suppose I should be glad he didn't manage any more breakfast." Methos threw the last paper towel in the refuge sack and tied the top tightly.

"He hasn't been eating?" Joe looked surprised. "That's not like Richie."

Methos looked over at the restless figure on the bed. "He hasn't been sleeping well either."

"Are you going to say it now, or are you going to save it up until later?" Joe sighed.

Methos look up. "What?"

"I told you so?" Joe reminded him.

"Oh. Later." Methos gave him a tight smile. "When I can really enjoy it."

"Gee. Thanks." Joe said sarcastically. "I never knew Richie had been abused like that." He added sadly.

"That's because_ he_ wasn't." Methos pointed out.

"What? But .." Joe stopped as the sound of soft, but fervent swearing came from the direction of the bed.

"I think our patient is awake." Methos observed.

"Rich?" Joe hurried over to the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"_Way_ better than I'd like to." Richie replied, without opening his eyes.

"What?" Joe was confused.

"I think he means it hurts." Methos explained, as he sat on the other side of the bed and applied a cool cloth to Richie's forehead.

Very carefully Richie turned his head and opened his eyes a crack to peer at the Immortal.

"Please tell me that was one of the other guy's memories?" Richie tried to smile.

"That was one of the other guys memories." Methos said obligingly.

"Really?" Richie looked hopeful.

"Really. You don't have any scars."

"Oh. Cool." Richie looked relieved. Then he frowned. "Hey that sucks. I can remember the other guy's tormented past but I can't remember the last time I has sex."

"Joe can probably tell you." Methos smirked.

"Hey, I'm a Watcher. Not a Voyeur." Joe protested.

"Doesn't matter." Richie sighed. "I don't think I could stand the excitement right now."

"Still bad?" Methos asked.

"Actually, worse." Richie admitted, with a tight smile that told Methos he really was hurting.

Methos looked down at the pale, drawn, face and came to a decision.

"Its no good. You can't go on like this." Methos looked at Joe.. "We have to kill him."

"Oh for God's sake." Joe fumed. "That's pretty damn cold, even for a calculating son of a bitch like you. Its not like he is incapacitated or anything. He can always make new memories."

"He doesn't mean permanently Joe." Moving very carefully, Richie sat up. "You _don't_ mean that right?"

"Of course not." Methos glared at Joe. "But there's just a chance that when the Quickening heals the wound, it will sort out everything else as well."

"Kinda like hitting the reset button." Richie agreed.

"I guess it might work." Joe didn't look convinced.

"What?" Methos sighed.

"Well, if you hit the reset button, don't you loose any unsaved information?" Joe frowned.

"Meaning?" Richie scowled.

"Meaning, you might forgot what you already know." Methos admitted uncomfortably.

"_Oh_." Richie thought about that. "What's behind door number two?"

Methos considered that "Your head might explode." 

"I'm guessing we don't heal from that huh?" Richie winced.

"Not usually."

Richie thought about it for a minute. "Do it." He decided.

"Are you sure?" Joe asked. "You don't have to."

"Just do it OK?" Richie insisted.

***

Except it wasn't nearly as simple as that.

"I could just shoot him." Joe suggested.

"Oh yeah. Gun shots." Richie nodded "That will go down real well in a Ritzy place like this."

"Not to mention all that blood on the sheets." Methos added.

"Um. Guys. If we are going to do this. Can we please get it over with?" Richie asked plaintively.

"Rich?" Joe looked closely at him. "What's the matter?"

"What's the matter?" Richie repeated incredulously. "You guys are standing there talking about offing me and you want to know what's the_ matter?"_

"But you're Immortal. You'll come back." Joe said reasonably.

"Yeah. Well. It still hurts." Richie protested. "Besides .." He picked at the blanket.

"There's always that nagging doubt that this time it might not work?" Methos added.

"You too?" Richie looked up in surprise.

"Pretty much all of us, I think." Methos shrugged.

"Really?" Joe looked amazed. "I never thought. I mean you guys die so much more often than regular people."

"Trust me." Methos sighed. "Its not exactly the kind of thing that gets easier with practise."

"OK." Joe considered. "Well then. You could stab him with your dagger."

"That's not a good idea." Methos shook his head.

"Why not?  Its quick. Its quiet and if you do it straight through the heart there'll be almost no blood. We can always do it in the bathroom."

"Well, if you think its so easy you do it." Methos snapped.

"You have a problem with this." Joe realised. "You have a problem with killing him."

"God, Joe. What kind of a monster to you think I am?" Methos challenged. "You are asking me to look a friend in the eyes and murder him in cold blood. Of course I have a problem with it!"

 "So, what are we going to do?" Joe wanted to know.

"I could do it myself." Richie said quietly.

"No." Methos put a hand on his shoulder. "No one expects you to do that."

"Well. We have to do .."

Before he had finished the sentence Methos had neatly snapped Richie's neck.

"You .. you .. manipulative …" Joe spluttered. "What the hell was that ..?"

"Joe. There's no good way to die. But its always better if you don't see it coming."

***

Richie woke to find two pairs of eyes staring down at him.

"Well?" Joe asked eagerly. "Did it work?"

"I died didn't I?" Richie sniped, looking sourly at Methos.

"Well, at least we know you remember something." Methos shrugged.

"Thanks so much." Richie sat up. "Hey, my head doesn't hurt and the room stayed still."

"Your colour is better." Methos observed, reaching out to check Richie's pupils. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Richie showed him.

"I think he's OK." Joe smiled.

"You didn't do much math in High School either did you?" Methos smiled.

"Is there anything to eat around here?" Richie looked around. "I feel like I haven't eaten in days."

"You probably haven't." Methos dug out the room service menu.

Joe watched indulgently as Richie picked up the phone and started running off an order as long as his arm.

"Looks to me like he's back to normal." Joe beamed.

"Hey, you guys want anything?" Richie asked, before he hung up.

"Except for one small, important detail." Methos sighed.

"What?" Joe demanded.

"He still doesn't remember anything from before."

"How do you know?"

"He just ordered his pizza with anchovies."

"Oh." Joe looked disappointed. "Now what are we going to do?"

"I have an idea."

***

"This is a joke right?" Richie scowled at himself in the mirror.

"No it's a disguise." Methos corrected.

"This is not a _disguise_. This is a baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses. You'd have to be an idiot not to recognise me like this."

"Now he realises." Methos sighed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Richie narrowed his eyes. "Never mind. I don't want to know. Tell me again why I need a disguise?"

"Because we are going to steal a very expensive sword." Methos pointed out. "The last thing we need is some helpful neighbour giving your description to the police."

"The police? In that neighbourhood?" Joe raised a brow.

"They like Macleod. The man just can't resist helping."

"So leave Richie here." Joe waved a hand. "I'll keep him company."

"I can't." Methos shook his head.

"Why not?" Joe demanded. "He'll be perfectly safe. If anyone comes I'll just shoot them."

"Remind me not to order room service." Richie murmured.

"I meant Immortals." Joe rolled his eyes. 

"I can't leave him here because he installed Macleod's security system as well, all right?" Methos snapped. "I need his help."

"In 5000 years you've never learnt to trip an alarm?" Richie's lips quirked.

"Some of us had lives to lead." Methos scowled, checking his text messages. "OK. We're all set. Amanda will keep Mac busy for at least an hour or two."

"I just bet she will." Joe smirked.

"What else can't you do?" Richie was curious.

"Are you ready?" Methos demanded.

"What about tap dancing? Can you do that?" Richie asked with a grin.

"I'm leaving now." Methos pointed out. "Come on Joe."

"Or Water ski-ing? Have you ever tried that?" Richie followed them out the door.

***

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this." Joe hissed.

"You volunteered." Methos reminded him.

"I'm doing this for Richie's sake. Not yours. When Macleod turns your guts into kebabs I'll be right there handing him the ketchup."

"OK. We're in." Richie looked up. "Tell me again why you guys don't have the code for this?"

"Mac got fed up of Methos coming over to steal his beer." Joe chortled.

"At least I didn't just forget!"

"You forgot the code?" Richie laughed.

"So sue me." Joe grumbled.

"So where is it?" Richie looked around.

"Oh no. You stay here." Methos commanded. "If I take you upstairs your brain might start leaking out of your ears again and we don't have time to clear up the mess."

"Gee thanks for caring." Richie grinned at him.

"Anytime." Methos smiled. "Joe stay with him."

"Anyone would think_ he_ was your Dad." Joe muttered.

"More like a anarchical Uncle." Richie grinned. "The kind that don't care if you eat too much sugar and watch TV all day."

"It just doesn't seem like him. That's all." Joe admitted uncomfortably.

"Maybe you don't know him as well as you think." Richie wandered over to look at the weight bench.

"Don't touch anything." Joe said automatically. "Why would you say that?"

"Well. Think about it. How many people has he been over five thousand years. How many lives has he lived? How many of those have you seen? Who's to say which one is "like him?" 

"I guess I never thought of it like that." Joe smiled. "When did you get to be so smart huh?"

"You're asking_ me .._" Richie began, then stilled.

 "Oh no .." Joe realised. "Please don't tell me.."

The sound of feet thundering down the stairs confirmed his suspicions.

"The next time I see Amanda .." Methos fumed.

"Maybe its not Macleod." Joe suggested.

"Do you want to take a bet on that?"

"She tricked us." Joe realised.

"Of course, she tricked us." Methos said acidly. "She's Amanda."

"Wait." Richie slid to a stop. "Did you get it?"

"Yes. _Yes_. I got it. Come _on_"

"You're lying." Richie didn't move. "Amanda wouldn't have set this up, just to leave the sword lying somewhere in the open. She'd have hidden it somewhere to make sure we hung around until they got back."

"Alright. I don't have it." Methos admitted. "But this is not the time."

"I'm not leaving without it." Richie insisted, looking around. "What's the last place you'd look?"

"The men's locker room?" Methos sniped. "Richie we don't have time for this."

"Too obvious." Richie dismissed that. "It would have to be somewhere that it would never occur to you to look."

"Richie. Maybe this isn't such a good idea." Joe hedged.

"The office." Richie realised. Looking through the glass window to the sword brackets on the wall.

"Well I'll be .." Joe breathed. "If you want to hide something leave it in plain sight."

There, hanging on the wall, was Richie's sword.

"Quick. Grab it and let's get out of here." Joe ordered.

"Too late." Methos closed his eyes.

The door to the Dojo flung open and a black coated figure strode determinedly through, katana raised in challenge.

Duncan Macleod had had a terrible week and he _wasn't in the mood for uninvited guests._

"I'm Duncan Macleod of the Clan Macleod. And you are .." Duncan paused and looked closely at the frozen figure gazing at the sword. _"Richie?"_


	10. Chapter Ten

In the silence that followed Methos realized that the people on the floor below were having a party, he wondered if they had beer and whether they would invite him.

"So much for the disguise." Joe muttered.

"Richie." Duncan repeated, lowering the Katana.

"Um. Yeah?" Richie pulled off the baseball cap and ran a nervous hand through his hair.

As Duncan moved into the light Methos could see the days of worry, uncertainly, and fear, etched onto his face melt into relief.

"Where the_ hell_ have you been?" Duncan yelled, advancing across the floor.

Richie flicked a quick, anxious, glance at Methos and Duncan stopped dead.

"Richie? What's wrong?"

"You um .. are probably wondering what's going on huh, Duncan?" Richie shifted nervously, twisting the baseball cap in his hands.

"Rich." Duncan spoke more gently. "I just want to know .." The Scot blinked. "_Duncan_?"

"Mac." Joe put in. "There's something you should probably know."

Duncan kept his eyes fixed on Richie. "I'm listening."

"Richie, isn't exactly himself right now. Well he's still him and everything. He just doesn't know what that is." Joe rambled. "I mean .." he glared at Methos. "Do you want to help me out here?"

"Not really." Methos shrugged.

Duncan struggled to hold on to his patience. This had been a very long week and now no one was making any sense.

"Are ye hurt?" he demanded.

"No." Richie shook his head. "I mean I was pretty sick there for a while. .."

"You've been sick?" Duncan was concerned.

"Yeah. No biggie. Just some headaches and stuff. But then Methos killed me and since then I've been fine."

"Uh Oh." Joe muttered under his breath.

"Methos killed you?" Duncan asked, very carefully.

"Yeah. I mean it was all in a good cause, and I feel much better now .." Richie assured him blithely.

Slowly, Duncan turned his head to meet Methos' eyes.

"You knew?" Duncan's voice was low and dangerous. "All this time you _knew?"_

"Not_ all_ the time." Methos protested.

He would have said more but it was rather hard to speak with a sword pressed up against his throat.

"You'd better have a damn good explanation." Duncan growled.

"Hey Mac. C'mon .. take it easy." Joe pleaded.

"Stay out of this Joe." Duncan warned, circling around Methos, keeping the point of the blade at his throat. "Well?"

"Not really." Methos quipped.

Joe threw up his hands in despair.

Duncan grasped Methos by the front of his jumper and pulled him up until they were eye to eye.

"Do you have any idea what you have put me through? Do you?"

He threw Methos out across the floor of the Dojo. Advancing with his sword.

"C'mon Mac. You don't want to do this." Joe pleaded.

"Watch me." Duncan raised the Katana.

 "Mac! No! Don't!" Heedless of the blade, Richie threw himself between Methos and Macleod. With an oath Duncan tried to pull the stroke at the last moment, but not fast enough to prevent the Katana from slicing deep into Richie's bicep.

"Richie!" Duncan stared in horror.

"Shit." Richie managed through gritted teeth, pressing his hand across the gaping wound. The blood poured between his fingers and dripped onto the floor.

"That was my favourite coat." Methos complained, grasping Richie by his good arm and propelling him towards the bench. "Sit down."

"I'm fine." Richie protested. "It'll heal." He swayed slightly.

"Sit down, fall down, I don't much care." Methos pointed out. "But right now, gravity is not your friend."

"Should he be that pale?" Joe worried, as Richie sank down on the bench, tipping his head back against the wall, and squeezing his eyes shut aginst the pain.

"No. He should be unconscious." Methos put his hand over Richie's adding pressure to the wound.

"That hurts." Richie murmured, with a distinct slur to his voice.

"Good." Methos smiled at him. "That means your arm hasn't dropped off yet."

"You break out the leeches and I'm outta here." Richie's lip's quirked.

"I think that can be avoided." Methos watched in satisfaction as Richie's Quickening began to heal the wound.

Richie sat up a bit straighter and cracked open an eye to look carefully at Duncan.

"Sorry about the floor."

"The _floor?_" Duncan asked incredulously. He took a shaky  breath and let it out slowly. "Richie. You disappear without trace for almost two weeks, _without taking your sword,_ when you do turn up, in the middle of the night, you've lost weight, you're as pale as a ghost, you don't seem to know who I am, then you take leave of what appears to be left of your senses and almost impale yourself on my blade and you think I'm worried about the _floor?"_

"He's not worried about the floor." Methos translated.

"Do you mind?" Duncan asked icily.

"Just trying to be helpful."

"I think you've _helped_ enough already." Duncan hissed.

"Oh well that's just great .." Methos began.

"Look, I don't know what you two are arguing about.." Richie cut in "because I don't speak gibberish but.."

"Gibberish?" Duncan looked at Joe.

"Gaelic." Joe shrugged. "Ever since .. you know .. with the sword .." he nodded at Methos.

"Oh." Duncan hadn't realised.

"but I really need a shower .." Richie peered disgustedly at his hands.

"Isn't this where I came in?" Methos wondered.

Duncan's eyes flashed and for a moment Joe feared another demonstration that even Methos' wit was not as sharp as the Scot's sword, but instead Macleod's gaze slid back to his student and his expression softened.

"You look like hell." he said fondly.

"You should see the other guy." Absently Richie rubbed his hand across his eyes, leaving a red smear across one cheek that stood out in stark relief from his chalk white complexion.

"Saul?" Duncan's voice was full of sympathy.

"So I've been told." Richie looked up and Joe was stuck by how young he suddenly appeared.

Duncan sat down next to him on the bench.

"Tell me." He commanded gently.

"Do you want the readers digest version or the whole enchilada?" Richie asked.

"Digest." Duncan decided. "For now .."

"Let's see." Richie ticked things on his fingers. "Fought Saul. Killed Saul." He looked up, "won by the way .. just in case anyone _still_ has any doubts on that .."

"_Richie_" Duncan rolled his eyes. "Get on with it."

"Yeah right." Richie nodded. "Um. Fought Saul. Killed Saul. Won. Took this _really_ big Quickening. Brain got fried. Forgot stuff. Woke up cold and confused in this seriously ugly yellow jacket."

Joe waited for the barrage of questions, but Duncan merely looked intently at his student for a moment.

"That must have been hard." His voice was full of sympathy.

"Yeah. Hard." Richie drew a shaky breath.

Duncan looked out into the Dojo. "I'm sorry about .. before .. twas an accident .. I'd no more harm ye than .." he shook his head.

"I know." Richie said simply.

"You do?" Duncan looked relieved.

"You _do_?" Joe was surprised.

"When I tried to stop you .." Richie looked awkward. "I remembered  .. before .. on the beach. There was this girl .." on his stark white expression, Richie's blush was even more noticeable than usual.

"Felicia." Duncan realised.

"Yeah." Richie nodded. "You were going to kill her. Except you didn't. Because I asked you to." Richie gave him a shy smile. "I figure if you did that .. just because I asked you .. then .. well .. you know ."

"That I love you." Duncan met his gaze steadily.

"Um. Yeah. That." Richie shifted slightly.

"Come on." Duncan patted his shoulder. "You can shower while I'm cooking dinner."

"Dinner?" Joe exclaimed. "You have no idea what time it is do you?"

"I'm hungry. And I don't expect_ he's fed Richie's had anything but Pizza and beer."_

"Excuse me." Methos protested. "He _chose _Pizza. With anchovies."

"You hate anchovies." Duncan pointed out.

"You don't say_._" Richie scowled. "_Someone_ could have told me that before I ate them."

"How about pasta with meatballs?" Duncan offered.

"I don't know." Richie looked at him. "Do I like that?"

"Yeah." Duncan smiled. "You like that."

"Maybe we should go." Joe offered.

"Richie?" Methos' question hung in the air.

"There's beer in the refrigerator." Duncan wouldn't look at him.

Methos shrugged. "I can drink beer." 

"Um. Shower?" Richie said hopefully.

"Upstairs." Duncan smiled. "More hot water."

"OK." Richie grinned. "Um. Where?"

"This way .." Duncan steered him towards the elevator, pausing briefly by Methos.

"I'll suffer you, for the lad's sake. But you and I." Duncan spoke softly in Gaelic. "We are not finished."

"Well that went well." Joe muttered.

"It could have been worse." Methos observed.

Joe thought about it for a moment.

"Mac." He realised. "Richie called him Mac."


	11. Chapter Eleven

AN – OK more shameless self promotion. Thanks to Southern Chickie, Spike's Girl and Shady Lady for the rave reviews of I never liked Art. Your support all the way helped me keep writing – this looks easy when other people do it, but its not easy! I'm sorry this has taken so long to update that even I had to go back and re-read it! I'll try to do better.

***

The ride in the elevator was uncomfortably silent. Richie kept looking between Duncan and Methos, who looked anywhere but at each other. Joe looked at the floor.

"Easy." Duncan reached out a hand and steadied Richie as the kid swayed slightly.

"Altitude sickness." Richie quipped.

"I think." Duncan opened the gate and steered Richie firmly towards the couch. "It has more to do with not eating or sleeping .."

"Not to mention exceeding Red Cross guidelines for blood donation." Methos murmured.

"Maac." Richie protested as he was settled onto the couch.

"Humour me." Duncan instructed. He looked over his shoulder. Joe would have a problem managing. That really left him only one choice.

"Could you get me a bowl of warm water, and a cloth, please?" he asked Methos tightly.

"You are_ not_ giving me a sponge bath." Richie said darkly.

"It wouldn't be the first time." Duncan smiled tiredly. 

"Here." Methos offered him the cloth and the bowl. "I would have put a slice of lemon in it. But Macleod seems to be out."

Richie looked at the bowl.

"Rich. Just wash your hands, OK?" Duncan sighed. "You can have a shower just as soon as you've mastered standing up. Frankly, I don't think you can take any more knocks to the head, right now."

"You need to wash up before dinner Rich." Joe encouraged.

"Dinner?" Richie looked hopefully at Macleod.

"Coming right up." Duncan reached out and tousled his hair. "You stay put."

"Where would I go?" Richie wondered. "I don't even know where I live."

***

"Something on your mind Joe?" Duncan asked, without looking up from where he was rummaging in the freezer.

"Well. I wasn't going to mention it  .." Joe broke off as Duncan pulled out a Tupperware box. "Leftovers? You spent the last week thinking he was dead and now you're feeding him leftovers?"

"Emergency supplies." Duncan corrected. "This sauce takes two hours from scratch. I always try to keep some in. A hungry teenager is not a nice thing."

"He's not a teenager any more." Joe pointed out.

Duncan gave him an odd look. "Yeah. Well. Old habits." He put the container in the Microwave. "You were saying ..?"

"Its probably nothing." Joe looked awkward.

"Then it won't matter if you mention it, will it?" Duncan gave him his full attention.

"What do you know about Saul?" Joe asked.

"I know his reputation." Duncan studied Joe's expression. "He's one of the ancient Immortals. Greece. Rome. A soldier. Born to the sword. Why don't you tell me what you know?"

"Didn't you ever wonder why I was so sure that Richie was dead?" Joe asked.

"Saul is a lot older than Richie." Duncan said carefully.

"C'mon Mac. This is me. I've seen you two train. You don't hold back. You've given that kid every possible advantage."

"Richie's a good student." Duncan pointed out.

"And you're a damn fine teacher. Because you love him and you want him to survive." Joe shook his head. "Of course, he was good enough to take Saul."

"So what happened?" Duncan asked coldly.

"Halfway through the fight .." Joe looked away. "Saul pulled a stiletto blade and pierced Richie through the heart."

"He died?" Duncan straightened. "So why not take his head?"

"I wish I knew." Joe admitted.

***

"Something on your mind?" Methos asked, as he fell onto the couch beside Richie.

"Not much actually." Richie sighed.

"Now. Now. Don't be negative." Methos scolded. "Think of all the things you've learnt over the last few days."

"Yeah." Richie scowled at him. "I've learnt that you can be a real pain in the .."

"I think someone needs another nap." Methos observed loftily.

"You know, I think I'm going to enjoy watching Mac chop you up into teeny, tiny, chunks for holding out on him." Richie smirked.

"You've slipped into that awfully easily." Methos observed.

"Huh?" Richie looked blankly at him.

"Do you even realise that you are doing it?" Methos enquired.

"Doing what?"

"You don't, do you?"

"Of course I don't. Cos you're not telling me." 

"You've been calling him Mac. Ever since downstairs."

"Oh." Richie realised. "It was remembering the girl I think. On the beach."

"Felicia?"

"Yeah. I called him Mac then." He hesitated.

"And?" Methos nudged him.

"Duncan just didn't seem .. normal." Richie admitted awkwardly.

"I'd have to agree with you there." Methos smirked.

***

Richie fell asleep before dinner was ready, resting his head on Methos' shoulder, seriously impinging his access to the fridge.

"Here." Duncan offered him a beer.

"Is this a peace offering?" Methos raised a brow.

"No. It's a beer." Duncan told him patiently.

"Is this how it ends?" Methos enquired. "You're going to torture me to death with bad jokes?"

"Don't give me ideas." Duncan warned. "Did you know that Saul killed him?"

"Joe has a big mouth." Methos sighed. "I thought bartenders were supposed to be discreet."

"Joe can be discreet." Duncan smiled thinly. "He left so I could kill you in peace."

"How did this get to be my fault?" Methos asked plaintively. "I wasn't even there."

"You didn't think this was something I needed to know?" Duncan growled.

"Frankly. No." Methos was direct. "And I was right as it turns out."

"Why didn't Saul kill him?" Duncan wondered. "Why go to all that trouble to disable your opponent and then leave them their head?"

"Maybe Richie had something he wanted." Methos mused.

"Have you even been to Richie's apartment?" Duncan shook his head. "He doesn't have anything anyone would want."

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me." Methos smirked.

"You two have gotten pretty close over the last few days." Duncan rolled his beer between his hands.

"You're welcome." Methos deadpanned.

"What?" Duncan demanded icily.

"Oh come on Macleod. I've fed him, clothed him, put a roof over his head, tended to his owies, and traipsed all over the city trying to work out what the bloody hell is wrong with him, the least you could do is be a little grateful."

"Protecting Richie is my job." Duncan hissed. "You knew how worried I would be. Why not just bring him to me?"

"Ah." Methos looked uncomfortable. "That."

"Yes. That." Duncan insisted testily.

"I .. might have been wrong about that .." Methos sank into the sofa.

"You might have been wrong?" Duncan asked carefully.

"Every time he remembered even the smallest thing he'd get sick." Methos pointed out. "Its hard to cure an Immortal sized headache, when you haven't got the slightest idea what is causing it."

"How sick?" Duncan worried.

"The more he remembered the sicker he got." Methos admitted "I thought that if I brought him here, his head would explode."

"So why didn't it?" Duncan asked.

"I don't have a clue." Methos shrugged.


	12. Chapter Twelve

AN- Thanks to Southern Chickie, Shady Lady and Spike's Girl for their super fast reviews. Its been so long since I updated this that I wasn't sure if anyone would still be reading it! Rest assured Richie does get his memory back. But you didn't think I was going to make it easy for him did you? 

***

"Hey. You're awake." A voice, that Richie recognised as Joe's drifted across from the armchair.

"Why do people always say that?" Richie complained, pushing himself up to a sitting position to look at the Watcher. "I mean, if I was still asleep, there'd be no point in talking to me would there?"

A blanket, which hadn't been there before, slipped down, tangling in his legs.

"Someone's still a little cranky." Joe smiled.

"You've been spending too much time with Methos." Richie muttered, extricating himself from the blanket and staring at his stocking feet.

"OK. Where are my shoes?"

"Did you even look in the closet?" Joe rolled his eyes.

"What closet?" Richie scowled at him.

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry kid." Joe pointed. "Mac usually puts them in there."

Richie screwed the blanket up into a ball and stuffed it behind the cushion that had evidently been serving as a pillow.

"Do we play this game a lot?" he sniped.

"What?" Joe looked genuinely confused.

"Why would he want to steal my shoes?"

"You were asleep." Joe pointed out.

"I'd like to see him try it when I was awake." Richie retrieved his shoes and sank back down on the couch to put them on.

"No. I mean .." Joe shook his head. "You fell asleep on the couch, so Mac put you to bed." 

Richie stared at him as if he was insane.

"This is a joke right? I'm too old for that."

"That's as maybe." Joe smiled. "But I've seen Mac do the same thing at least a half dozen times in the last month."

"Well, he can't be a very good teacher then." Richie protested.

"Why not?" Joe straightened, ready to defend Duncan's reputation.

"Another Immortal, takes off my shoes, tucks me up in a blanket and puts a pillow under my head .. and I don't so much as crack a eye?" Richie scoffed. "That's gotta be a sure way to loose your head."

"Rich. About you and Mac .." Joe began, just as the elevator whirred into life.

***

"Hey Rich." Duncan greeted him with a smile, as he juggled grocery bags. "You hungry?"

"He'd better be." Methos observed dryly. "Otherwise you've just dragged me round all those shops for nothing."

"You didn't need to come." Duncan observed.

"Someone had to make sure you bought the right sort of beer." Methos started loading bottles into the fridge.

"Is there a wrong sort of beer?" Joe wondered.

"Not enough." Methos smirked. "You want a beer kid?"

"Its kinda early isn't it." Richie observed. "Even for you."

"Rich." Duncan gave him a fond look. "How long have you been asleep?"

"Um." Richie looked in vain for a clock.

"Why don't you go take your shower?" Duncan smiled at him. "And I'll make you some lunch."

"Lunch?" Richie blinked, his eyes finally settling on a small carriage clock on the bookshelves. "Fourteen hours? You're kidding me. No one sleeps for fourteen hours."

"I guess you needed it." Joe said sympathetically. "You've had a rough week."

"Joe." Duncan warned.

"What?" Richie looked from one to the other. "What's going on?"

"I'm making lunch and you are having a shower." Duncan told him.

"You could see if you can wash some of that blood off my jacket whilst you're about it." Methos scowled.

"I don't think leather is exactly washable." Joe observed.

"Tell that to cows." Methos retorted.

"I put some of your stuff in the Bathroom." Duncan continued.

"I have stuff here?" Richie looked pleased.

"Good." Methos gave a satisfied smirk. "I can ruin _your_ jacket."

***

"You look better." Duncan couldn't help but grin. With his hair still damp from the shower Richie looked even younger.

"Yeah. I feel it." Richie licked his plate clean. "I guess even Immortals need sleep huh?"

"That's disgusting." Joe made a face.

"But good." Richie gave a satisfied smile.

"Did you know that in certain Moorish countries..." Methos began.

"No!" Joe and Richie chorused.

"Education is wasted on the young." Methos observed loftily.

"I don't know." Richie smirked. "I figure Amanda could teach me quite a bit."

"What happened to Amanda?" Methos asked.

"You know Amanda." Duncan shrugged. "She comes. She goes."

"She skips town when things get a little too hot for her to handle." Joe murmured.

"Amanda knew?" Duncan realised. "How much did you pay her?"

"Not enough." Richie smirked. "She set him up."

"Oh?" Duncan cast an amused glance in Methos direction.

"Do you really want to go there?" Methos smiled thinly. "I seem to recall an incident in Istanbul where .."

"That's in ma Chronicle?" Duncan said in a strangled voice.

"Please tell me you guys don't write about .." Richie made a face.

"There are guidelines." Joe shifted awkwardly. 

"Now _that's _disgusting." Richie pointed out.

***

Duncan laid the sword on the coffee table and sat back down on the couch next to Richie.

"You sure you want to do this?" he spoke for Richie's ears alone.

Richie eyed the sword warily as if it was a poisonous snake.

"That's it huh?"

"That's it." Duncan acknowledged.

 "So. What? I just pick it up and Kaboom my memory is restored?" Richie looked sceptical.

"Maybe." Duncan hedged.

"Maybe this is too dangerous." Joe looked worried. "He's already started to remember bits and pieces. Why rush it?"

"Now you're cautious?" Methos shook his head. "You couldn't have thought of this before you made him throw up on my shoes?"

"If this is so dangerous." Duncan frowned. "Why did you bring him here for the sword in the first place?"

"Because its his life." Methos shrugged. "He has a right to know who he is."

"Even if it you have no idea what that will do to him?" Joe protested.

"Methos is right." Duncan ran a hand through his hair.

"I am?" Methos looked surprised. "I knew that." He told no one in particular.

"It has to be Richie's decision." Duncan pointed out.

"No matter what the risk?" Joe challenged.

"What about the risks of leaving him like he is?" Methos countered. "You think an opponent is going to wait politely while he passes out for a few minutes?"

"Um. Guys?" Richie cut in.

The three of them turned to see Richie already holding the sword.

"I don't think its gonna work." He shrugged.

"Its probably for the best." Joe sighed.

"You know something don't you?" Richie narrowed his eyes. "What do you know?"

***

"He killed me?" Richie had gone very pale. "As in I died?"

"Not permanently." Duncan's quiet confidence was reassuring. 

"He must have thought it was his only chance." Joe backtracked. "That means you were winning."

"So, why didn't he take his head?" Methos pointed out.

"The Quickening isn't the only Prize." Richie murmured.

"Richie. You OK?" Duncan put a hand on his shoulder.

"Um. Yeah." Richie jumped up off the couch. "I'm fine."

"Fine?" Duncan narrowed his eyes.

"Is there any coffee?" Richie fled towards the kitchen.

"Sorry." Joe waved a mug. "I finished it. You'll have to make some fresh."

"I'll do it." Duncan started towards him.

"No!" Richie spoke sharply. Then took a breath. "No. That's OK. I've got it."

He headed towards the freezer and pulled out the coffee beans. He was busy with the grinder when he looked up to see Duncan, Methos and Joe staring at him.

"What?" he asked warily.

"Richie." Duncan asked carefully. "How did you know where to find the beans?"

Joe hadn't thought it was possible for anyone to get any paler. But apparently it was.

"I don't know." For the first time since this whole nightmare had begun Richie looked truly frightened. 

"Richie .." Duncan tooks a step towards him.

"No. Look. Just don't. OK? Please?" Richie pleaded.

His eyes darted around for some means of escape. His sword.

"Look. I'm .. just gonna go practise or something." He forced a smile. "You wouldn't want me to get sloppy or anything would you?"

Duncan didn't drop his gaze. But he stepped back in permission.

Richie seized the sword gratefully and headed towards the stairs.

"Richie." Duncan's voice stopped him. "Don't try to run from this. I don't want to have to come looking for you. Understand?"

"And not all battles must be fought alone." Methos murmured.

"Yeah. Richie swallowed. "I kinda got that." He gave them a wan smile. "Can I go downstairs if I promise to take my ball of twine?"

"Downstairs is fine." Duncan gave him a thin smile. "_Don't_ leave the Dojo."

"Poor kid." Joe sympathised. "Its only natural that he's scared that he's never gonna remember stuff."

Duncan and Methos exchanged a glance.

"Are you gonna tell him or shall I?" Methos asked.

"Joe." Duncan sighed. "Richie isn't frightened that he might not remember anything. He's afraid that we might discover what he already knows."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

AN- Hey. Thanks for the reviews. I'm glad someone is still out there reading this. This is a really long chapter – but it should make a few things a bit clearer – and raise a few new questions (grins evilly) I did say I wasn't going to make it easy for Richie!!

***

"Maybe you should be the one to talk to him." Duncan hedged.

Methos looked up in surprise. That was the last thing he had expected.

"Why me?"

"You know, sometimes, if I didn't know better, I'd swear you _were_ Richie."

"Oh come on Macleod. Just because I can be sarcastic doesn't mean I have anything in common with the brat."

"You forget irritating and annoying." Duncan pointed out.

"Did I?" Methos arched a brow as he sprawled even further across the couch.

"Maybe not." Duncan acknowledged.

He knocked Methos feet to the floor and sat down beside him.

"We're still not sure how much he knows. I don't want to make him uncomfortable."

"He knows you." Methos reassured. "He may not exactly remember you, but do you think he'd be so comfortable with a stranger?"

Duncan smiled fondly. "At first it was like raising a skittish colt. He was so desperate for affection, but if you pushed too hard, went too fast .."

"You've done a good job with him." Methos was sincere.

"Are you feeling alright?" Duncan enquired.

"Hey. I can do nice." Methos protested.

"So you'll talk to Richie?" Duncan glanced sideways at him.

"When did you get to be the manipulative one?" Methos complained.

"It seems fair." Duncan gave him a significant look.

"Hey. All I did was look after the kid. Did you see me brooding? I think not."

"I didn't see you at all." Duncan said archly.

"Ah." Methos sunk a little further into the sofa.

"He needs to talk to someone." Duncan insisted.

"So why not you?" Methos was genuinely curious.

"Because." Duncan looked away. "I think I'm the problem."

***

Methos watched as Richie moved across the Dojo wielding his sword with quick, angry, movements. Macleod was mistaken. He didn't need to talk.

At least, not yet.

"Can two play at that game?" he enquired.

"You want to fight me?" Richie looked slightly worried.

"Don't worry." Methos gave him a reassuring smile. "I left my 5000 years of experience in my other pants."

"I guess if you were going to kill me, you would have done it by now." Richie acknowledged, bringing his sword up.

"I never said I wouldn't _kill_ you." Methos teased, readying his blade.

"You can try." Richie grinned back.

Methos soon realised that Richie was every bit as good as he had thought. Fast, smooth and fluid, with a range of techniques. It was no easy fight. Methos felt a little mean using a move to disarm him that had fallen out of use centuries before Macleod was born.

But only a little.

The kid would have been absolutely insufferable if he had won.

"Um. Nice move." Richie complimented him, with as much dignity as he could manage with a sword at his throat.

"Thanks." Methos quickly removed the blade and offered the kid a hand up. "You've learnt a thing or two yourself."

"For someone who lost." Richie pointed out.

"You win when it counts." Methos reminded him.

"I guess." Richie looked away.

Methos nudged him. "How would you like to be able to knock Macleod on his bum?"

Richie laughed. "Like that's gonna happen anytime this century."

"Oh. I don't know." Methos said innocently.

***

Much later, they sprawled, tired and sated, on the polished wooden floor. Richie had proved a joy a teach, a quick, responsive, student, who seemed born to the sword. Methos couldn't remember the last time he had enjoyed training anyone quite so much.

"So, are you ready to tell me what happened with Saul?" he asked.

Richie didn't open his eyes.

"What did you and Mac do? Draw straws?"

"He asked me to talk to you." Methos saw no reason to beat about the bush. "He's worried that you're afraid to tell him."

"I'm not afraid of Mac!" Richie sat up.

"You're not afraid that he might be disappointed in you?" Methos asked levelly. "If he knew the truth?"

The colour that turned Richie's face beet red answered for him.

"Have you ever heard of the Hippocratic Oath?" Methos asked him.

"The what?" Richie looked nonplussed.

"I'll take that as a no." Methos decided. "The Hippocratic oath has been taken by Doctors in various forms since the Greeks discovered modern medicine. Basically it invented Doctor/Patient confidentially."

"And you've taken this oath?" Richie thought he could see where this was going.

"Several times actually." Methos nodded. "I think throwing up on me qualifies you as my patient."

"I'm sorry about that." Richie managed the ghost of a smile.

"No, you're not."

"You really won't tell Mac?" Richie asked hesitantly.

"On my honour." Methos vowed.

***

"I thought I was going to die." Richie admitted quietly. 

"Saul was a soldier. Born to the sword. With centuries of experience. But you're good. Better than he would have expected." Methos wondered if  that was what had sparked the ancient Immortal's interest.

"He was playing with me." Richie shook his head. "Testing me. I guess he wanted to see what I could do. Then when he was ready .. he killed me."

"He didn't do a very good job of it." Methos pointed out.

"I was kinda surprised to wake up." Richie gave a fleeting smile. "Although the ropes were a bit of cliché."

"He tied you up?" Methos had suspected as much.

"Yeah." Richie scowled. "It wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't been such a sweet old fashioned guy. Handcuffs are way easier to get out of than ropes."

"Especially when they are wet." Methos agreed. At Richie's surprised look he shrugged. "In 5000 years there are very few things that I haven't experienced."

Or done. But he didn't think Richie needed to know that right now.

"Oh." A little of the tension seemed to leak out of Richie.

"You didn't think you were the only person in the Universe who had ever been kidnapped, did you?" Methos scoffed, not unkindly.

"I'll bet its not high on Mac's list of things to do at the weekend." Richie said quietly.

Methos frowned.

"Is that what this is about? You think Macleod's going to blame you for being taken prisoner?"

Richie paused.

"Yeah. That's it. I mean he taught me better than that? Right? I shoulda seen it coming. I screwed up."

A week ago Methos would have believed him.

This was not a week ago.

***

"Um. Are you sure you want to do this?" Richie glanced over at him. "Mac said I wasn't to leave the Dojo."

"I'm sure." Methos kept his eyes on the road.

"He was pretty mad the last time you kept me all to yourself." Richie shifted slightly in his seat. "Maybe we should go back."

"Since when did you start following orders?"

"And do you really think it was a good idea to steal his car?" Richie winced.

"We're not stealing it." Methos corrected. "We're just borrowing it."

"Without asking? That's usually classified as stealing."

"We'll ask him when we get back."

"Where are we going anyway?" Richie demanded.

"We're here." Methos pulled over.

"Here?" Richie looked around at the deserted beach. "There's nothing here."

"There will be in a minute." Methos assured him getting out of the car and taking off his shoes and socks.

"And you know this because ..?" Richie stared at him for a moment, shrugged and followed suit.

"Centuries of experience." Methos shrugged, sitting down on the low stone wall and wiggling his toes in the sand.

"Of course." Richie sat down. Then waited. Then fidgeted. Then looked at Methos in exasperation.

"Are you going to tell me or do I need to guess?"

"I'm going to tell you. Then you're going to shout. Then I'm going to shout. There's probably  going to be a lot of noise." Methos shrugged. "That kind of thing tends to bring Macleod running with his sword drawn. I thought we might both want to avoid that."

"Oh well. Good." Richie nodded. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Methos told him.

***

"Can't you understand English?" Richie yelled. "I've told you already. I'm _not_ lying. For the last time. Nothing happened. So just leave me the hell alone."

Methos looked at the younger Immortal. Richie was angry and frustrated and he didn't care who knew it. He was also scared out of his wits.

He, on the other hand, was just pissed.

"Not bloody likely." 

He seized hold of Richie by his shirt front and dragged him up until they were eye to eye. "I didn't spend the best part of the last week mopping your brow and mopping up your sick so you could tell me to butt out now. Whatever Saul did to you was bad enough to fritz your brain. You are going to talk to me and we are going to fix this."

"The hell I am." Richie protested. "Cos there is nothing to tell."

"Then let me tell you something." Methos seized his jaw and forced Richie to meet his gaze. "You can't run away from this. It is inside you now. It will haunt you and eat away at you until you dying day. Do you think you are strong enough to bear that?"

"I don't need your help. I don't need anyone's help." Richie struggled to get away.

"Only a fool doesn't need friends." Methos shook him slightly. "And you're better than that."

"How do you know?" Richie challenged  "How do you know what I'm really like?"

"A man is judged is the quality of his friends." Methos thought he'd read that somewhere once. "Me. Amanda, Joe, Macleod. We'd all stand by you. No matter what. If this week has taught you anything it must have taught you that."

"Maybe you wouldn't if you knew the truth." Richie spat.

"Richie. We will not abandon you." Methos told him. "We love you."

The blow came out of nowhere.

A small, detached, part of Methos brain recognised that it was a very respectable right hook.

The rest of it was screaming in agony as his nose exploded across his face.

Richie froze, staring in horror at his bleeding knuckles and then at the blood and cartilage pouring from Methos nose.

"I'm sorry." He faltered, taking a step back. "I didn't mean .."

"You couldn't just have said it with flowers?" Methos managed.

***

"I'm sorry." Richie had been apologising for the last ten minutes.

"Richie. Its fine." Methos assured him. "See?" He waggled his now healed nose. "Good as new."

"You're shirt's ruined." Richie noted unhappily.

"That's alright." Methos grinned at him. "You can buy me a new one."

"Gee. Thanks." Richie gave him a shy smile.

"Now you see." Methos raised a brow at him. "That's more the response I was going for before."

"I'm sorry." Richie said again.

"Yes. I know." Methos gave him an exasperated look. "Now do you think you could tell me something else? Like what happened with you and Saul?"

"I never thought of not being able to die as a disadvantage before." Richie whispered.

"He tortured you?" Methos realised.

He was suddenly, irrationally angry that Saul was dead. He wanted to kill him himself.

"Yeah. He knew all kinds of nifty ways to scar and main." Richie swallowed. "I figure he'd had lots of practice."

"That's why you needed his clothes .."

"Yeah. You think that yellow jacket attracted a lot of attention." Richie shook his head. "Zombie is so not a good look."

"How many times did you .. die?" Methos was finding it surprisingly difficult to talk about this.

"I don't remember." Richie scuffed a toe in the sand. "Quite a lot. I think. Took a long time."

"Yes. I imagine it would." Methos sighed.

He'd known before that Richie was stubborn. But he'd mostly discounted it as usual teenage angst. This week had given him a whole new respect for the kid's ability in that area. He wouldn't have been an easy mark.

Which raised the other question. Contrary to popular belief very few people tortured others simply for fun.

"Richie. What did he want?"

***

It took a long time for Richie to get the whole story out. Methos was patient, offering support when he thought Richie would allow it and giving him space when he realised he needed it.

"You are pretty good at this." Richie told him when he was done.

"Been there. Done that." Methos shrug didn't come off quite as unconcerned as he might have liked. Richie's experiences had dredged up some unwanted memories.

"Do you ever get over it?" Richie asked.

"No." Methos was honest. "But you can learn to live with it. Talking about it helps."

"Is that what you did?"

"Not for far too long." Methos shook his head.

"I thought that was Hippocratic Oath. Not Hypocritical." Richie said with an absolutely straight face.

Methos stared at him for a moment. Then they both began to laugh.

"Do as I say. Not as I do. Brat." Methos scolded when he could speak again.

"Five thousand years of wisdom and that's the best you can do?" Richie shook his head.

"We should be getting back." Methos stood up. "Macloed will be getting worried."

"You aren't going to tell him are you?" Richie looked anxious.

"No." Methos shook his head. "But I think you should."

"What!"

"He needs to know." Methos was adamant.

"Nuh uh. No way. Not going to happen." Richie was equally stubborn.

Methos paused. Something was definitely not right here.

"Richie. What else do you remember?"

"Who me? Nothing." Richie shook his head. Methos wasn't entirely sure that he believed him.

"But the sword?" he prompted.

"I told you. It didn't work." Richie shook his head. "Not so much as a flicker."

"So, when exactly did you remember about Saul?"

"When Joe told me that he killed me." Richie looked a little sick at the memory. "I mean. I'm not entirely sure that I had completely forgotten that. But it was like bits and pieces. Kind of like a dream. And after .. before .. with the vase .. I wasn't sure if they were my memories or his. When Joe told me that he'd killed me .. it all kinda fell into place."

"So, how did you know where to find the coffee beans?" Methos puzzled.

"I have absolutely no idea." Richie gave him a haunted look. "That really freaked me out. Who keeps coffee beans in the freezer?" he demanded.

"Its good for the favour." Methos told him absently. "So you just instinctively looked in the right place?"

"Maybe. Yeah. I guess so." Richie allowed.

"Has that happened before?" Methos wondered if they were on to something.

"You don't think I might have mentioned it?"

"With you. I have no idea." Methos drawled.

"Funny." Richie scowled.

"Come on." Methos turned back to the car. "Macleod probably has an stolen vehicle report out on the T-Bird by now."

"I thought you said it wasn't stealing?"

"I said I thought it wasn't stealing. I never said Macleod would feel the same way."

"Are you going to make me tell him?" Richie looked away.

"Richie. Nothing that happened was your fault. Macleod will understand that." Methos stressed.

"Oh get real." Richie shook his head. "Its pretty clear that I owe everything to him. The guy took me in when I had nothing, gave me a better life, taught me to survive. And how do I repay him?" 

For the first time that afternoon, Richie's voice wavered. "With betrayal. How on earth is he going to understand that?"


	14. Chapter Fourteen

AN- Here it is guys. The next instalment. Especially for Southern Chickie, Shady Lady and Spike's Girl – who seem to be the only three people still reading it. Unless you review and prove me wrong!

***

Methos fully expected to find Macleod pacing the Dojo like a caged tiger on their return. He was mildly surprised to find him sitting on the couch, apparently completely unconcerned, reading a book.

"Hey." Duncan turned a page. "Did you have a nice drive?"

Methos wondered if this was the calm before the storm.

Well, two could play at that game.

"Yeah. It was good. Although, your carbonator needs .. tuning or something. It kept making these little popping noises. And the gear box kept making this strange .. grinding noise."

"I'll see to it." Duncan didn't rise to the bait.

"Want me to take a look?" Richie offered. "I figure if I can remember how to hot wire it, I can probably remember how to fix it."

Duncan looked up. If he noticed how pale and shaky Richie looked he gave no sign.

"Sure. That'd be great Rich." Duncan smiled at him. "The tools are in the storeroom."

"Cool." A trace of real enthusiasm lit up Richie's haunted features. "I'll have her running like a dream."

"You always do Tough Guy." Duncan gave him a fond look.

Richie's expression faltered a little at the simple affection, but he simply nodded and turned towards the elevator.

Methos slumped in the armchair, mildly annoyed at being deprived of the couch, and waited for the inevitable outburst.

And waited.

"Well for God's sake say _something_." He demanded at last.

"What do you want me to say?" Duncan looked at him from over the top of his book. "That I'm angry that you took him away from here when I wanted to keep him close. That I'm bloody annoyed that you left me for over two hours without any word. That I'm irritated beyond belief that you stole my car .. _again?"_

"Well, maybe not in exactly those words.." Methos frowned. This wasn't going the way he had expected and he didn't like that one bit.

"He told you didn't he?" Duncan sighed. "What happened between him and Saul?"

"Yes." Methos acknowledged. "Look. Its not you. Its about you. But its not you."

"I see." Duncan, stood up and walked over to the window, looking down on the figure peering under the hood of the T-Bird.

Finally, Methos could stand it no longer.

"Alright. I give up. Why aren't you yelling?"

"Richie looked exactly like that when Tess died." Duncan spoke quietly. "He followed me around for days with that same haunted expression on his face until I finally realised that he was terrified that I couldn't love him any more. That I would blame him for not saving her."

***

Methos didn't care much for gambling. Much better to arrange events so you knew exactly what the outcome would be.

Right now, he would lay odds that Richie wouldn't be ready to talk to Macleod about this until hell froze over.

And maybe not even then.

"You have a _date_?" Richie's head came up so fast he almost decapitated himself on the hood of the T-Bird.

"You don't have to look so surprised." Methos grumbled.

"No. I mean." Richie looked flustered. "That means you're going out."

"That's usually the way dating works." Methos acknowledged. "Of course. If everything goes well I might be staying in." he leered.

"Y You can't .." Richie stammered.

"Do you need me to draw you a diagram?" Methos raised a brow.

"Hell no!" Richie protested. "Fine. Go. Have a good time." He stalked off.

"He thinks you are running out on him." Duncan spoke softly from the shadows.

"You think?" Methos shook his head. "Look. I know my timing is bloody awful. But this is important."

"Anyone I know?" Duncan gave him a searching look.

"Nope." Methos started to walk away.

"You know Richie is going to have nightmares about this tonight don't you?" Duncan asked levelly.

"Then he'll need someone to talk to." Methos acknowledged, without turning around.

He'd gone another four steps when Duncan's quiet voice reached him.

"Thank you."

***

Duncan loitered by the T-Bird making half hearted attempts to finish what Richie had started.

"Sorry." Richie's voice apologised. "I kinda got interrupted."

"That's OK." Duncan hid his smile. He'd known Richie wouldn't be able to leave it half done. "You want a hand?"

"I don't know." Richie gave him a look. "Do you know anything about cars?"

"A bit." Duncan shrugged. "What do you want me to do?"

It was a good idea. As they worked easily side by side Richie grew visibly more relaxed.

"So. I'm guessing we've done that before?" Richie accepted the beer Duncan gave him as they sprawled on the sidewalk.

"Once or twice." Duncan agreed.

"So what do we do usually now?" Richie waggled his eyebrows. "Cocktail parties? Casinos? Dancing girls?"

Duncan considered that. Richie still looked too pale and tired for too much excitement.

"How about Pizza and a video?" he offered.

"Sounds good to me." Richie acknowledged.

"No anchovies." They chorused. Then laughed.

"I'm sorry." Richie picked at the label on his beer bottle.

"Whatever for?" Duncan asked, startled by this sudden change in mood.

"I can't keep doing this." Richie wouldn't look at him. "I mean, if you were some deadbeat, trust me, I'd be happy to eat all your food and steal all your beer, take up room on your couch. But I can't keep doing it to a nice guy like you."

"Why not?" Duncan kept his tone light. "Methos does it all the time."

"Its not the same." Richie insisted. "I think I should leave."

Duncan wasn't fooled. Richie didn't want to leave. He was afraid to stay.

"We'll talk about it in the morning." Duncan decided. "You promised me Pizza and a video."

"Can I choose?" Richie gave him a lop-sided smile.

"I dunno." Duncan teased. "Do you remember what you like?"

***

Richie fell asleep long before Luke Skywalker even met Han Solo. Duncan carefully scooped him up and carried him to his own bed, slipping off his shoes and jeans without waking the kid with the ease of long practise.

"Sleep well, Tough Guy." He stroked his hair gently.

For two hours he pretended to concentrate on his book.

Then Richie screamed.

"Richie!"

The lad was sitting up in bed, pale and shaking. Staring at nothing with unfocused eyes.

"Easy Richie." Duncan put a hand on each shoulder. "Look at me."

"M mac?" Richie managed.

"Yeah. Tough Guy. Its me."

"Oh God Mac please. Make him stop." Richie begged. "I can't stand it."

Duncan felt something cold and hard settle in his chest. He had seen such terror before.

"Its alright Rich. Its alright. Its over. You're safe." Duncan reassured him.

Much as he wanted to know what was bothering Richie, he'd not stand by and force the lad to relive his agony.

"No." Richie clung to him desperately. "That's what he wants you to think. He waits till you are all healed and then it begins all over again."

"Dear God .." Duncan ruthlessly clamped down on his anger. The lad needed him. "Richie. Listen to me. You killed Saul. Its over."

"Sorry Mac." Richie gave an odd hollow laugh. "I don't think I'm gonna get out of this one. He already killed me once. I don't think the odds are improved with both hands tied behind my back. Do you?"

"Richie .." Duncan shook him slightly.

"Aw hell Mac. He's coming back. He's coming." Richie looked absolutely terrified. "I'm sorry Mac. I'm so sorry. I at least wanted to live long enough to make you proud of me."

"Richie. You're fine. Do you hear me?" Duncan shook him hard. "You are not going to die."

"But I'm gonna tell him Mac." Richie all but whimpered. "Maybe not this time. Or the next time. But eventually I'm gonna tell him."

"Tell him what?" Duncan asked, startled.

"Everything." Richie managed.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

AN – So maybe I was wrong about how many people are reading this (grins happily – thank you). And to show my appreciation for all the lovely reviews I've incorporated reader feedback -  for Skywise I've made this as uncliffhangery as possible (given that there is more to come) for Shady Lady there's a hug for Richie .. and Methos will be back in the next chapter. And the Spike's Girl – even if Saul's dead. It matters to Richie (evil grin).

By the way - Tatties and Neaps is mashed potatoes and swedes. It's a Scottish thing.

***

"Richie." Duncan had rarely felt so helpless. "C'mon Tough Guy. Snap out of it."

"I'm sorry Mac. I'm sorry." Richie kept apologising.

Duncan was at a loss for what to do. So he did the only thing he could think of.

He hit him.

The open handed blow wasn't that hard. The pink mark on Richie's cheek already fading even as his eyes focused.

"Ouch." Richie complained.

"Are you alright?" Duncan asked.

"Of course I'm not alright." Richie protested. "You hit me!"

"I'm sorry." Duncan apologised. "You were having a nightmare."

"You couldn't have just made me some warm milk or something?"

"You don't like warm milk."

"I don't much like getting hit."

"Look. I've said I'm sorry." Duncan said, exasperated. "I didn't know what else to do. Its not like I've hit you before."

"Yeah you have." Richie sniped.

"I train with you Rich. Its not the same thing." Duncan pointed out.

"When I was eighteen? I had a black eye for a week." Richie reminded him.

"That was an accident. You were supposed to duck." Duncan raised a brow. "You remember that huh?"

Richie stilled.

"Um. Maybe." Richie hedged. "I mean. Bits and pieces. Obviously not everything."

"Well. Obviously." Duncan agreed.

Richie was many things. But he was far from stupid.

"How long have you known?" he sighed.

"I think the question is Richie. How long have _you_ known?"

***

"I didn't remember anything .. not at first." Richie wrapped his hands around the mug of hot chocolate as it was a lifeline. "I dunno. Maybe Methos was right. Maybe Saul's Quickening was above the recommended dosage or something."

Or maybe it was the trauma. Duncan kept that thought to himself.

"Then it was just little things .." Richie continued. "Like being at the racecourse or the circus. I'd look at Methos or Joe and it was like being with a couple of strangers. Except they knew all this stuff about me that I didn't know."

"That must have been pretty frightening." Duncan offered kindly.

Richie didn't deny it.

"You know. If you'd asked me to pick the person least likely to be relied upon in a crisis." Richie shook his head.

"I'm glad Methos is good for something." Duncan's lips quirked.

"You didn't look that glad when you were chasing him across the Dojo with your sword." Richie recalled.

"I wasn't actually going to hurt him." Duncan defended himself.

"Coulda fooled me." Richie quipped, thinking about his arm.

Then winced, as Duncan's expression darkened at the memory.

"You_ were _a dammed fool." Duncan scolded, his eyes flashing. "What were you thinking of? Putting yourself between two Immortals like that?"

"Oh come on Mac. I knew you wouldn't hurt me." Richie defended himself.

"You_ knew_ I wouldn't hurt you huh?" Duncan said mildly.

"No. I mean  .." Richie bit down on his tongue so hard it bled.

"Too late Rich." Duncan sounded almost amused.

"I told you the sword thing didn't work." Richie defended himself weakly.

"Because you had already remembered." Duncan said dryly.

"You knew?" Richie frowned at him. "How did you know?"

"Because." Duncan said smugly.

"Mac. That is not a reason." Richie protested.

"Can I have that in writing?" Duncan raised a brow.

***

"You know it would have served you right if I had told you your favourite food was tatties and neaps." Duncan smiled.

"I don't even know what that is." Richie made a face. "But it sure doesn't sound like hamburger."

"Here." Duncan passed him one of the plates of pancakes.

Richie looked at it.

"Its got syrup and whipped cream." He noted unhappily.

"You like syrup and whipped cream._ Remember?"_

"I do." Richie agreed. "But you always complain about empty calories and too much sugar and .. I don't know cavities. Can Immortals get cavities?"

"Richie. Don't change the subject."

"I'm not. You only put syrup and whipped cream on them when you want me to spill my guts."

"So spill." Duncan tried to keep his tone light. "C'mon Rich. I thought we got past this? Its not like you don't know lots of embarrassing stuff about me."

His words had exactly the undesired effect.

Richie's face went completely white and his plate clattered onto the floor from his suddenly lifeless hand.

"I've got it." Duncan fetched a cloth.

"I'm sorry." Richie whispered. But whether for the mess or something else. Duncan wasn't sure.

"Richie. You are going to talk to me if we have to sit here for the rest of our lives." His voice was steely with quiet determination.

"You couldn't have known. I mean I was real careful." Richie said desperately.

"Oh sure." Duncan nodded. "You did everything right."

"So if I'm right up there with the Hollywood Greats. What gave me away?" he asked, woodenly.

"Richie. I know you." Duncan told him softly. "When I came into the Dojo with my sword drawn .."

"I recognised you." Richie whispered.

"I saw it in your eyes." Duncan told him.

***

"Methos knows?" Richie blurted. "How? He barely notices I'm alive."

"He was kinda suspicious when you head didn't explode." Duncan pointed out. "Besides. I think you'll find he notices more than he lets on."

"Great. Just great." Richie threw up his hands. "You know he's gonna torture me with this for the next thousand years?" He froze.

Duncan gave him a sharp look. "Richie?"

"Damn." Richie scrubbed firmly, trying to erase some unpleasant memory behind his eyes. "Me and my big mouth."

"It'll fade." Duncan patted his shoulder comfortingly. "Just give it time."

"Does Joe know?"

"He didn't." Duncan made a face when Richie looked hopeful. "He does now."

"I'm gonna have to get outta Dodge." Richie muttered.  "I really didn't know when I met Amanda."

"Be grateful for small mercies." Duncan murmured. "You are much too young to suffer Amanda when she thinks she's been slighted."

"I'm not that young." Richie shot back. "I'm old enough to take responsibility for my own actions."

Duncan wondered exactly where that had come from.

For once he decided to be the one to change the subject.

"What made you remember?"

"It was that whole .. Duncan Macleod of the Clan Macleod thing .." Richie shook his head. "Hell of a first impression."

"And everything just clicked into place?" 

"Pretty much. It was like reliving that first night when I broke into the Store and then .."

"Your whole life flashed before you."

"Yeah." Richie looked into the distance. "I didn't know how to tell you. I knew that if you knew that I knew I'd have to tell you .." he trailed off.

"So you just kept up the pretence?" Duncan asked.

"Hey. You were the one pretending you didn't notice."

"Touché." Duncan smiled.

"Mac. _Please. For God's sake don't be nice about this." Richie's voice quavered. "Yell or something."_

"You _want_ me to yell?"

"Why not? I deserve it." Richie said quietly. "I'd be mad at me."

***

"Richie!" Duncan protested as the lad hopped around looking for his other shoe. "That wasn't what I meant!"

"Its what you said." Richie retorted. "Not mad. Disappointed. I got that."

"Richie! Will you stop that .. you are not leaving ..  just listen to me."

"Oh believe me Mac. I heard you loud and clear the first time."

"No you didn't." Duncan reached out and seized Richie by his shoulders. "Yes I'm a little disappointed that you didn't trust me enough to come to me with this. I'm not disappointed in you. Never in you."

"You would be if you knew the truth."

Duncan was almost positive Richie hadn't meant to say that.

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

"Saul wanted to know everything about you." Richie told him. "You strengths. Your weaknesses. And he figured I was the guy to tell him."

"Oh." Duncan wasn't entirely surprised. It wasn't unknown for Immortals to try and gather information before a challenge and a recent student was an obvious resource.

"Well, he's dead now." Duncan didn't see the problem. Unless. "He is dead right?"

"I have his memories. I'm pretty sure that means I have his Quickening." Richie gave him a look.

"So. Its not a problem." Duncan shrugged.

"Mac. This wasn't just a few tit bits for the school newspaper. Your favourite colour or the name of your pet. This was serious stuff. Your favourite moves. Your preferred fighting style .." Richie looked away.

"Richie. He's dead. You're safe. I'm safe. Its over." Duncan put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Is it?" Richie looked up at him and Duncan was struck by the clear anguish in his eyes. "You trusted me Mac and I betrayed you. How can that ever be over?"

***

"I .. you .. what ..?" Richie stuttered.

"You heard me." Duncan paced with barely pent up frustration. "You shouldn't have fought him so hard."

"Oh. I suppose you'd rather I had just told him everything over tea and cakes." Richie scoffed.

"Yes." Duncan exploded. "Better that than sapping your strength by dying God knows how many times .. and then telling him."

"I wasn't planning on telling him at all." Richie's voice cracked.

"I know." Duncan stopped and ran a shaking hand through his hair. "I know. But sooner or later .." he swallowed. "Everyone has a breaking point Rich."

"Mac ..Have you? .. I mean .."

"Richie. This isn't about me." Duncan pointed out. "But .. yeah. I've been there .. once or twice."

"You mean this might happen again?" Richie gave a sickly grin.

"Maybe." Duncan looked away.

"That's something to look forward to." Richie murmured.

"If it does .." Duncan reached out and grasped Richie's jaw firmly, forcing him to look into his eyes. "You save your strength. You watch your mouth and use your head and remember everything you ever learnt on the streets and you do what you have to do to survive. Do you hear me?"

"Mac .." Richie shook his head.

"Do you think my survival would have meant _anything if I'd known it was at the cost of your life?" Duncan demanded fondly. "I trust you to keep your head where it belongs Tough Guy. Everything else we work out together – as a family. Right?"_

"I didn't think you'd still feel like that after .." Richie looked away.

"Oh Richie." Duncan pulled him into a hug. "You still have a lot to learn about families laddie." He murmured sadly.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

AN – Thanks as ever for your feedback, despite the fact that ff.net appears to have eaten a whole stack of reviews I have them on e-mail alert so its great to know that there are new people reading this as well as those brave souls who have been there all along. This chapter is especially for all you Methos fans. This is something I've wanted to do for ages (grins).

***

"So. He's still here then." Methos observed, casting an eye over the rumpled figure asleep on the couch, before detouring to the fridge for a beer.

"How was your date?" Duncan raised a brow.

"Needed a shave." Methos smirked "Did the kid fess up?"

"How much?" Duncan asked.

"Sorry Macleod." Methos looked at him. "You're not my type."

"I meant, how much did you con Joe into betting you that Richie wouldn't "fess up"? Duncan clarified.

"He was pretty confident." Methos smirked.

"Your bar tab?" Duncan guessed. 

"Well into the next century." Methos looked smug.

"And what did you have to put up that Joe would agree to certain bankruptcy?"

"Doesn't matter." Methos was unconcerned.

"What makes you think you've won?" Duncan asked with his best poker face.

Just for an instant Methos composure slipped. Then he swore in a language Duncan didn't recognise.

"Just because I'm turning into you .. does not mean you get to be me." Methos said sourly.

Duncan made a mental note to ask Joe exactly what Methos had agreed to.

"I've probably got a spare kilt somewhere you could borrow." he smirked.

"Actually." Methos studied his beer bottle. "I was wondering if you might lend me something else."

"Oh?"

***

The sound of Bohemian Rhapsody blasting through the loft brought Richie to his feet with his sword in hand.

"You're up than." Methos turned the stereo down.

"Jesus Christ! What the _hell _did you do that for!!" Richie yelled.

"You were sleeping. I wanted to wake you up." Methos said simply.

"You wanted to .. so you .." Richie spluttered.

Richie took a breath and counted to ten.

It didn't help.

"You couldn't just have said. "Wake up Richie!" he seethed.

"I tried that." Methos wandered over to the kitchen counter and picked up a mug.

"You did?"

Richie was surprised. He was usually a light sleeper. Especially around people he didn't know that well.

"Here." Methos handed him the mug. "Maybe this will help. Although personally I prefer beer."

Richie sniffed cautiously.

Coffee. Fresh.

"What do you want?"

"Such cynicism from one so young." Methos shook his head. "You want to put that away? Its still a little early for me."

"You were the one doing all the waking." Richie pointed out putting his sword down. "So. What was so important it couldn't keep a few decades?"

"Drink your coffee first. I want you to be awake enough to remember this."

"What did I do?" Richie asked warily.

"If you are thinking of telling me that you've forgotten .." Methos expression darkened.

"Um. No." Richie sank back onto the sofa. "But I was hoping you had."

"You lied to me."

"I didn't exactly lie. I just omitted certain parts of the truth." Richie offered.

"Do you believe that?" Methos inquired.

"No." Richie admitted. "But it was worth a try."

"Indeed." Methos murmured. "Few people have taken me for a fool and lived."

"I never said you were an idiot." Richie tried to defend himself. 

"Yet you lied to me." Methos said calmly. "Does my good opinion matter so little to you?"

"Actually." Richie spoke without thinking. "I thought you'd be impressed."

Methos regarded him with an implacable expression for so long that Richie began to wonder if he might need his sword after all. 

Then a grin blossomed across his expression.

"Oh. This is going to be fun."

***

"You want to do what?" Richie could not believe what he was hearing.

"I'm offering to be your teacher." Methos repeated.

"I already have a teacher." Richie pointed out.

"I thought you had got your memory back now?" Methos put his feet on the coffee table.

 "Yeah. So?" Richie looked puzzled. "What does that have to do with it?"

"So, who taught you how to master that double handed upper cut?"

"Conner .. last Christmas. I told you that."

"And who taught you how to use tumbling?" Methos continued.

"Amanda .. you have to remember that .. you laughed hard enough when I fell on my ass."

"True." Methos smirked at the memory. Still the kid had persevered. "You're quite good now though."

"But? .." Richie eyed him warily.

"Doesn't _anyone _think I can do nice?" Methos demanded.

"Sorry." Richie shifted uncomfortably. "Actually. I wanted to thank you. I don't know how I would have made it through the last week without .." he took a breath. "Thanks. For everything. You know?" He offered nervously, as if he expected to be laughed at.

Methos regarded the figure before him with a certain sympathy.

"I wouldn't have helped you if I didn't think you were worth it."

The simple sincerity of that statement made Richie blink. Then a soft, pleased, smile spread across his face.

"Thanks."

Richie stood up and offered his hand. Methos took it his cool, firm, grasp. Then pulled the kid into a quick, slightly awkward, hug.

"Experience is a hard teacher." Methos told him. "The trick is to survive long enough to learn from it."

"You should know." Richie gave him a sheepish grin.

***

"So. We're cool now right?" Richie scooped up the last forkful of eggs. "You're not just waiting until I'm not looking?"

"You should always be looking." Methos instructed. "But if you fetch me another beer I may decide to forgive you."

"That I can do." Richie put his plate in the sink and veered towards the fridge. "I'm just so glad this whole thing is over."

"Its not over yet." Methos shook his head.

"Joe won't be a problem." Richie waved a hand. "I'll work a few shifts in the bar or something."

"Not Joe. Macleod."

Richie looked up in concern. "He said he wasn't mad."

"Richie. Not everything in this world is about you." Methos chided.

"If you have a point. Do you think you could just make it?" Richie scowled. "You may not have noticed this, but subtly? Not exactly my strong suit."

"You hurt him." Methos told him. "He's worked hard to earn you trust. Your love. And you shut him out."

"I thought .." Richie said quietly. 

"I know what you thought." Methos allowed. "But Macleod deserved better."

"Its not like I'm a kid anymore." Richie floundered. "I can't go running to Mac with all my problems."

"If you didn't know, how old would you say I was?" Methos asked.

"I don't know. Thirty five?" Richie said, just to be mean.

"Funny." Methos scowled. "But still. You make my point. My body, its limbs, its cells, its molecular structure is frozen in time at the moment that I first died."

"You say this like I should be surprised." Richie scoffed.

"Did you know that recent research has indicted that the human brain doesn't fully mature until it is in its mid twenties?" Methos asked.

"Is that a dig?" Richie asked suspiciously.

"No. It's a medical fact."

"Really?" Richie wasn't convinced.

"Really." Methos affirmed. "What I'm trying to say is that, no matter how old you become, part of you will always_ be_ a teenager. Because your body never had the chance to mature to full adulthood."

"I'm not sure I like that idea."

"That's not really the point, is it?"

"So, what you are saying is that even when I'm a hundred I'm still going to be doing stupid kid stuff and needing you guys to bale me out?" Richie demanded.

"What I'm saying is that there is a part of you that will always need grounding ..."

"OK. Now I know you're snowing me." Richie interrupted. "No one is going to be grounding me when I'm a hundred. No way."

Methos waited.

An uncomfortable realisation swept across Richie's face.

"I'm acting like a teenager aren't I?" 

"Pretty much." Methos agreed. "And – just for the record – I didn't mean it like that."

"You mean like an older, wiser, influence." Richie realised.

"Exactly." Methos nodded. "From someone whose decisions aren't ruled entirely by his hormones."

"Hey!" Richie protested. "I'm not that bad."

"Look on the bright side." Methos smirked. "You're libido will never let you down." 

"There is that." Richie smiled.

Then sobered. "I really hurt him?" he asked softly.

"You've known Macleod longer than I have." Methos told him. "What do you think?"

"I think you probably have all his Chronicles memorized." Richie challenged.

Methos didn't deny it.

"Does this changing the subject thing ever work with Macleod?"

"Not often." Richie sighed. "I need to talk to him don't I?"

"I think." Methos twirled his empty beer bottle. "You need to tell him that you love him."


	17. Chapter Seventeen

AN – Hey. I know this one has been a long time coming. But I hope its worth it. There is one more Chapter to come (again) Thanks to everyone for reading and especially reviewing.

Thanks so much to Lori for the fantastic beta job – if you notice I'm not doing those irritating things that I do anymore, it's entirely down to her!

Also a message for MorganaPendragon (if you are reading this cos you don't have an e-mail addy) I had kinda thought that would be the end of The Gift now I had tied up all the loose ends – (except maybe an epilogue where Richie gets the bike if anyone would like) – so if there's something you still want to see, let me know!

***

 "Hey Mac." Richie leant against the door jamb of the office, feeling uncomfortably like he was seventeen again. "Is this is a bad time?"

Duncan looked down at the stack of invoices that absolutely, positively, had to catch the post.

In fifteen minutes.

"No." He put down his pen. "You want to go upstairs?"

"And have Methos smirk his way through my groveling?" Richie sank onto the sofa. "I'll pass thanks."

"What did you break this time?" Duncan smiled, as he came around the desk. Relieved it was nothing more serious.

"I dunno. Your trust. Your heart maybe." Richie looked at the wall. 

Or maybe it was.

"I thought we fixed this?" Duncan sat next to him on the sofa. Making sure their shoulders touched.

"Not everything in this world is about me," Richie quoted.

"Methos." Duncan made the name sound like a curse word.

"Is he wrong?" Riche asked quietly.

"Rich .." Duncan sighed. He had never been anything but honest with the lad. "Yeah. OK. I was a little hurt. I thought we were closer than that." He gave an awkward shrug.

"When I was real small. We had to do this craft project in school." Richie began. "We had this clay and stuff. Matt Cooper dared me to eat some. It was gross."

"It didn't occur to you not to take the dare?" Duncan smiled at the image.

"Hey. I had a rep to protect." Richie grinned.

"So. What were you _supposed _ to be doing with the clay?" Duncan nudged him.

"We had to make a paperweight." Richie made a face "I said right off it was stupid and I wasn't gonna do it. Sister Catherine wanted to make me stand in the corner."

"That makes sense." Duncan shook his head. "So you outsmarted her, huh? You didn't have to do it after all?"

"I thought so." Richie shrugged. "But I had reckoned without Sister Mary."

"She wanted to know why you didn't want to do it." Duncan guessed.

"It was supposed to be for Father's Day." Richie admitted. "I didn't want anyone thinking my foster father was my Dad."

"You didn't like him?" Duncan pushed a little.

Richie made a face. "He had creases ironed in his jeans."

"Enough said." Duncan acknowledged.

"I told her I didn't even have a Dad." Richie remembered. "Of course, she wasn't having any of that. She said God gave every child a father. I thought she was talking about a load of crap."

"You said that to a nun!" Duncan nearly fell off the couch.

"Are you even paying attention?" Richie groused. "I said I _thought_ it. Its not like she was telepathic or anything."

"So. What happened?"

"Sister Mary laid a guilt trip on me," Richie scowled. "I mean, don't they have rules about nuns being sneaky or something?"

"Not if its for your own good. Then I think it's in the job description."

"She said that I oughta make it anyway, else when all the other Dads had stuff from their kids, I'd feel bad that my Dad had nothing from me."

"So did he like it?" Duncan wondered where this was going.

"I hope so. Cos I kept it real safe and I've been waiting a long time for a good moment to give it to him."

Richie pulled a small package, clumsily wrapped in a faded page from a comic, from his pocket and offered it to Duncan.

The chunky, gaudily colored paperweight, emblazoned with WORLD'S BEST DAD was the ugliest thing that Duncan had ever seen.

And he could not have been happier to own it.

***

"Mac. You don't have to." Richie's voice protested as he trailed after Duncan.

"I know." Duncan smiled, as he gave the paperweight pride of place on the mantle piece. "What do you think?" he asked Methos.

Richie winced.

"It's very _creative_." Methos observed.

"What does that mean?" Richie bristled.

"It means that most people would have just said the actual words," Methos pointed out. "It's quick, cheap and saves on resources."

"Talking of resources," Duncan looked at the pile of boxes in his kitchen. "What's this?"

"Beer," Methos told him.

"When Joe said he'd cover your bar bill," Duncan smiled, "I think he meant in the bar."

"Then he should have said that," Methos pointed out reasonably.

"Now that you're my teacher. That means you have to be on my side. Right?" Richie asked nervously.

"Look. It's not like I'm ripping him off here. Joe made the bet in good faith," Methos grumbled. "Just because I'm not going to be living in Seacouver doesn't mean"

"You aren't ..?" Richie's head came up.

"You haven't told him yet?" Methos affected surprise.

"I was going to break it to him gently," Duncan scowled.

"Oh. Well. Be my guest .." Methos waved an arm.

"Gee thanks." Duncan threw him a sour look.

"Mac?" Richie looked panicked. "What's going on?"

"You knew it had to happen sooner or later, Rich." Duncan said gently. "You can't stay here looking nineteen forever. Sooner or later people are gonna notice."

"And in your case its almost always going to be sooner," Methos pointed out. "Had you even started shaving when you became Immortal?"

"Methos. Not now," Duncan warned.

Richie had gone completely white.

"I have to leave Seacouver? For good?" Richie managed. "But it's only been a few years."

"You don't have to do it alone." Duncan assured him.

"Mac. I can't ask you to give up your home for me." Richie shook his head.

"Richie." Duncan shook his head. "Don't you get it? You are my home."

"Why else do you think he stayed in Seacouver longer than sense or reason would suggest?" Methos demanded. "He's not getting any older either."

"It's just .." Richie swallowed. "I'm not ready."

"Then it's a good job we are." Methos said, not unkindly.

"We?" Duncan quirked a brow.

"Well. You," Methos acknowledged. "But I helped."

"Really?" Duncan tipped his head on one side. "How exactly did you help?"

"Give me a century or so and I'll think of something."

***

"Are you sure you know what you are doing?" Joe wondered aloud.

"I have taken students before you know," Methos huffed.

"I meant Richie," Joe deadpanned.

"This doesn't mean I have to go live in Greece or Rome or anything does it?" Richie asked. "Cos I'm telling you. Togas are really not my thing."

"Togas?" Methos winced. "Where exactly do you get your cultural references?"

"MTV," Richie grinned.

Methos spat his beer out.

"I see a whole lot of books in your future kid," Joe chuckled.

Duncan gave Richie a level look.

"You know, now he's your teacher you're going to have to stop doing that." He chided.

"But its so much fun," Richie protested.

"Would someone care to let me in on the joke?" Methos wiped beer off his shirt.

"You, of all people, should know about living down to people's expectations," Duncan shrugged.

"Ah," Methos mused. "That explains a lot."

"It does?" Joe didn't think so.

"I know," Richie made a face at Methos. "I couldn't possibly be as stupid as I look right?"

"Actually, I was going to ask how many degrees you'd managed to amass?" Methos raised a brow.

"How many what?" Joe was sure he hadn't heard right.

"Six. Maybe seven. Although, he needs a bit more practical experience with accounting." He threw a tolerant scowl in the direction of his student.

"I can always account for my money," Richie smirked. "It's just other people's money that's boring."

"What other subjects?" Methos was interested.

"English Literature. French. Maths. History, of course. Spanish. Although, I can't take all the credit for that. His Spanish was pretty good before. Polish, obviously. All I had to do was lend him a few books to broaden his understanding to degree level."

"Seven college degrees!" Joe spluttered. "You're trying to tell me Richie has seven degrees?"

"Well. The equivalent education," Duncan shrugged.

"It helps having a college professor as a Dad," Richie quipped shyly.

"Dad?" Joe blinked. "But he isn't .."

Joe hesitated.

Duncan wrapped an arm around Richie's shoulder and pulled him in close to his chest and kissed his curls.

"Really Joe, I thought you were supposed to be the authority on these things," Methos smiled. "Macleod has been a College Professor several times."

***

"So where are we going to live?" Richie got back to the subject at hand.

"How do you feel about Montana?" Duncan suggested.

"Montana?" Richie blinked. "That's in America right?"

"May the God's preserve us." Methos muttered.

"I was just _saying,_" Richie pointed out.

"Yes. It's in America." Duncan gave him a tolerant smile.

"So. Is there much call for Antiques in Montana?" Joe smirked.

"I wouldn't know," Duncan shrugged. "We're going to raise horses."

"Horses?" Richie swallowed. "As in hooves the size of dinner plates?"

"They have really big teeth, too," Methos added helpfully, making his own face.

"You two don't have to do anything you don't want to." Duncan glared at Methos. "I'm going to run the place and I've asked Conner to come and act as foreman."

"Conner?" Richie and Methos said as one.

"Well, with Rachel gone there's little to hold him in New York. Nash has lived there too long already. He's due for a fresh start."

"And he never could resist the turn of a fine fetlock," Methos smirked.

"Um. This place will have like water and electricity and all that stuff right?" Richie worried. "Cos I know you guys and your outdoor stuff."

"Do you really think Methos would be coming if it didn't have plumbing?" Duncan asked.

"Absolutely not!" Methos answered for him. "I lost my taste for outdoor plumbing once Jacuzzis were invented."

"Would you feel better if you went to take a look?" Duncan asked.

"Sure," Richie smiled. "When?"

"How about tomorrow?" Duncan shrugged.

"Just so long as we aren't going by mule train," Methos groused.

"Actually, I thought we'd use a plane .."

"Well. That's alright then."

"Then a helicopter, a boat, a jeep and finally a mule train, although we might have to dismount for the last bit and do it on foot." Duncan smirked.

"He's joking, right?" Richie looked at Methos. "Tell me he's joking?"


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Methos wasn't at all sure that he had ever been to Montana before.

He was far from clear about why he was here now.

"You couldn't have found a place closer to civilization?"

"There's a perfectly good sized town just twenty minutes that way." Duncan informed him

"By car or carrier pigeon?" Methos muttered.

"Do you really think I'd bring Richie somewhere that didn't have all the necessities of teenage life within easy reach?"

"Not if you value your sanity," Methos acknowledged. "Unless, of course, you've already lost it."

"Meaning?"

"Why horses?" Methos frowned. "Why not do your male bonding thing over motorcycles or cars?"

"Cars don't have feelings," Duncan pointed out. "Richie's felt like a victim too often in his life. This thing with Saul was just the last straw. He needs something that he can take care of for a change."

"So buy him a goldfish."

"You are deliberately missing the point here, aren't you?"

"Wow," Richie bounced up. "Man. This place is huge."

"You haven't seen the house yet," Duncan looked uncharacteristically nervous. "You ready for the Grand Tour?"

"Sure," Richie nodded. "It all looks kinda new."

"Parts of it are," Duncan led the way inside. "I remodeled it a bit."

"Of course." Methos muttered.

From the hardwood floors to the carved stone plinth over the fireplace, signs of the Immortal's care, and attention to detail, were clear in every room.

"When did you _do_ all this?" Richie was awestruck.

"On and off over the last few years," Duncan looked awkward. "This is the other bedroom."

"Oh wow," Richie exclaimed. "A bay window! I had one of these in my room once, when I was a kid. Well, it wasn't my room exactly, 'cos I had to share it with three other kids, but it was pretty cool."

He stepped in and turned around slowly to take in the fixtures and fittings.

"It has a Jacuzzi and a power shower in the en-suite bathroom too." Duncan told him.

"Did you get one of those little plaques with his name on as well?" Methos wanted to know.

"I'm sure we can pick one up in town." Duncan refused to be baited.

"This isn't for Connor?" Richie's jaw dropped. "Oh Mac, .."

"It's just a room." Still Duncan looked pleased.

"Trust me, Mac," Richie gave him a fond look. "I've lived in enough places to know the difference. Saying this is just a room is like saying Methos likes the occasional beer."

"Although, I can drink Champagne if the occasion requires it," Methos hinted broadly.

"You looked already, didn't you?" Duncan guessed.

"It is called a beer cooler for a reason, Macleod."

***

"Tell me why we are here again?" Richie muttered.

"So Macleod can buy horses." Methos told him.

"Yes. But why are_ we_ here?"

 "What do you think, Rich?" Duncan indicated the roan that was being trotted out.

"Um. It's a nice color?" Richie floundered.

Methos had to bite his arm to keep from laughing out loud.

"Hey, I'm hungry." Richie cast around desperately for something else to be doing. "Is anyone else hungry?"

"You just ate lunch." Duncan protested.

"That was hours ago," Richie dismissed that. "There's a Hot Dog stand just over there."

"Alright," Duncan rolled his eyes. "Do you have enough money?"

"Sure," Richie dropped down off the rail. "I'll even treat."

"Don't get lost." Duncan told him.

"Or arrested," Methos added.

"Don't fall down any holes." Duncan bit back a grin.

"Or fall in love with any women," Methos laughed.

"You guys are seriously weird." Richie shook his head. "Like, the odds of any one of those things happening to me between here and over there must be I don't know. Really, really, big."

"What do you think?" Duncan asked as he watched Richie weave his way through the crowd.

"We left out don't accept any challenges from strange Immortals." Methos grinned.

"Oh, come on. We've been here all afternoon without any sign, even Richie, couldn't .." Duncan froze as he felt the presence of another Immortal.

"You were saying?" Methos scanned the crowd.

Then relaxed as he recognized the other.

"Conner!" Duncan embraced his kinsman. "I wasn't expecting you until next week?"

"Last time I left you my money to buy a horse," Conner grinned at him. "You came back with a wench."

"You bought a girl?" Methos looked amused. "Having a hard time getting a date?"

"She was no that sort of girl!" Duncan protested. "I used the money to buy her food and clothing that's all."

"Clothing?" Methos smirked.

"Warm clothing." Duncan huffed. "Although, that's not to say she wasn't a comely lass." He grinned.

"And you call Richie a slave to his hormones." Methos rolled his eyes.

"What have you done with the lad?" Connor looked around. "After all this trouble with Saul, I'm surprised you let him out of your sight."

"He's just gone to get some hotdogs .." Duncan easily picked out the familiar blond curls from amidst the crowd. "Oh no .." he groaned.

"What?" Methos asked.

"I don't know. But something's wrong. He's coming back empty handed."

"What could possibly have gone wrong  in between here and there?" Conner frowned.

"Would you like a list?" Methos offered.

***

"You've done what?" Duncan was positive he couldn't have heard right.

"I bought a horse." Richie tried to look confident.

Methos scooted backwards as the horse in question flatted her ears against her head and tried to take a chunk out of his arm.

"How much did they pay you?" he asked dryly.

"Look," Richie started to look nervous. "I know she's a little skittish and all .."

They all flinched as one well aimed hoof made contact with the wall.

"But you can sort that out? Right, Mac?" Richie finished.

"Maybe." Duncan said doubtfully, frowning at the scars and welts littering her thin flanks.

"If you can ever get within ten feet of her." Methos muttered.

Spooked by all the attention, the young horse began bucking and pulling on her rope.

"She's going to break out." Connor warned.

"Aw hell." Duncan measured the likelihood of serious injury against the pinched, pale, look on Richie's face and decided it was no contest.

"Duncan. This is foolishness." Connor caught his arm as he moved towards the stall. "A horse like that will be no good for the boy. Better to nip this in the bud."

"No. We gotta help her." Richie protested. "Or they'll turn her into horse steaks or glue or something."

"Better that than send a man to his death through her willfulness." Connor shook his head.

"No. She's not a bad horse. She just met some bad people. I can help her. I know I can." Richie pleaded.

"Let him try." Duncan said quietly.

"Duncan. That engine runs on hay. Not gas," Conner pointed out. "What does the boy know about horseflesh?"

"What harm can it do to let him try?" Duncan shrugged.

"Well. He could get trampled into a mushy pulp," Methos suggested. "But he'd live .. so what does that matter?"

"Thank you so much for the rousing endorsement." Richie muttered.

"Anytime," Methos acknowledged.

***

The three elder Immortals watched as Richie slipped quietly into the stall.

"Hey horsie." Richie spoke gently.

"_Horsie?" Methos mouthed._

Duncan shrugged.

"Easy girl." Richie stood quite still, waiting for her to quiet down.

When he made no move to approach, the filly came back down onto all four feet, quivering with tension and eyeing him warily.

"Its OK." Richie soothed. "I won't hurt you. You're pretty hungry huh? You want this nice apple?"

Bending down he left a piece of the apple on the overturned bucket and backed off.

The horse sniffed, and took a stiff, anxious step forward. Learnt behaviour warring with her aching hunger.

Then stopped.

"It has his scent on it." Conner shook his head.

"I'll bet you that cottage you have in Ireland that she takes it." Methos put in.

"You have a cottage in Ireland?" Duncan blinked

"The Guinness just doesn't taste the same anywhere else." Conner told him.

 The filly snatched the apple and sniffed the air for more.

"You liked that huh?" Richie smiled. "You want another piece?"

This time he extended his palm out, with the fingers flat, as Duncan had taught him.

The horse took, one, two, hesitant steps, on shaking legs and quickly stole the apple from his hand.

"I think you owe me a cottage." Methos smirked.

"And I think we've just acquired a new member of the family." Duncan smiled at Richie.

"But you'll have to come up with a better name for her than horsie." Methos advised.

"You heard that?" Richie winced.

"Heard it?" Conner shook his head. "It'll be in your Chronicle."

***

Rich?" Duncan knocked softly on the door of his new room. "Can I come in?"

"Sure." Richie was sitting in the bay window.

"You OK?" Duncan asked gently. "You seemed kinda quiet downstairs."

"Yeah," Richie rubbed his eyes.

"Saul?"

"Not like you mean." Richie said ambiguously.

"You want to talk about it?"

"When I was real small," Richie looked out the window "Mom, I mean Emily, used to say that if a Mommy or Daddy's love was strong enough, it could make a magic circle around you that kept out all the monsters."

"That's nice." Duncan smiled at the thought.

"You do that for me." Richie told him. "Even when things with Saul were at there worst, I kept imagining you were there beside me, what you would do, what you would say, and it made me stronger. I couldn't have made it .. not then .. not as an Immortal .. not as a scared, lonely kid trying to get by on the streets .. if you hadn't been there for me."

"Then we're even," Duncan told him. "If I hadn't had you when Tessa died .. You were my strength. You kept me going."

"You know I love you, right?" Richie looked at him.

Duncan smiled fondly at him. "Yeah, I know it, but it's good to hear you say it all the same."

"I should have said it before." Richie looked away.

"Rich, you said it every time you offered to look after the store so I could take Tess out on a Saturday afternoon; every time you followed me when you were not supposed to; every time you told me I was being an ass when others would not," Duncan assured him.

"Well. Good." Richie gave him a lop sided smile. "Likewise."

"Is this a private party or can anyone join in?" Methos leant against the door jamb. "Connor has started singing."

"Pull up a piece of floor." Richie offered.

"You know, Macleod," Methos settled himself against the wall. "This Scottish frugal thing can be carried too far you know."

"I thought Richie might like to pick out his own furniture." Duncan explained.

"You could get one of those little beds shaped like race cars." Methos smirked.

"Has anyone mentioned that you're sleeping in the barn?" Richie responded.

"I think you may finally have met your match." Duncan grinned.

"Him or me?" Methos asked suspiciously.

"Both of you." Duncan grinned.

"So, is this like the formal hand over?" Richie grinned. "Don't I get an end of term report or something?"

"You're alive, aren't you?" Methos told him. "That's all the testimony you need."

"There is such a thing as finesse." Richie tried to look superior.

"Actually, I've been meaning to ask you about that," Duncan looked across at him. "You never did tell us how you beat Saul."

"The usual way." Richie looked awkward. "I chopped off his head."

"With both hands tied behind your back?" Duncan arched a brow.

"Ah," Richie squirmed. "Well, obviously I wasn't tied up at that precise moment."

"So, how did you get loose?" Methos put in.

"Do we really need to talk about this? I mean, like you said, I'm alive. That's all that counts. Right?"

"OK. Now I'm really curious. Aren't you, Macleod?" Methos grinned.

"This definitely sounds like something you should share, Rich." Duncan patted his leg.

 "I told him I needed to go to the bathroom, alright?" Richie blushed. "To be honest I didn't think he'd go for it, I mean, a guy who gets his kicks from introducing you to your insides, you gotta think some smell and a bit of mess isn't going to put him off his game. But I guess he was planning on carrying on for a while, and he certainly wasn't up for giving me a hand." Richie made a face. "So, he untied me and I killed him."

"Just like that?" Duncan said mildly.

Several hours of torture would hardly have left Richie at his physical peak.

"Pretty much just like that," Richie hedged.

"Define pretty much." Methos instructed.

"I told him I couldn't go if people were watching."

***

"He was lucky." Duncan looked down at the young man, sleeping in the crook of his arm.

"He used his head and he took his chance when it came." Methos corrected. "That's not luck, that's judgment."

"Even so, Saul was a fool to turn his back on an opponent."

"He thought a boy was no threat. And his arrogance got him killed with his own sword." Methos' tone demonstrated a certain satisfaction with that outcome.

"It was a risk though." Duncan eyed Methos carefully. "If Saul had got a hand to the blade .."

Methos narrowed his eyes.

"If you want to know my opinion of Richie. Why don't you just ask me?"

"Because I want a straight answer?"

"You've had several other teachers besides Connor, haven't you?"

"You call that a straight answer?"

"I don't call yours an answer at all." Methos pointed out.

"You've read my chronicle." Duncan shrugged.

"I don't remember who I was before I met Kronos." Methos admitted. "Not really."

"He must have been a harsh teacher." Duncan sympathized.

"Yes." Methos said, without bitterness. "And the lessons he taught me, I taught to others."

"Saul." Duncan realized "Saul was your student."

"Indeed," Methos looked at his beer. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to undo the wrong that you have wrought one person at time?"

"So, how do you make your peace?" Duncan asked.

"By realizing that I was not responsible for the choices of my students." The ghost of a smile drifted across Methos' face. "I mean, look at what happened to Darius at the gates of Paris. No one could hold me responsible for that."

"You were Darius' teacher?" Duncan was surprised. "He never said."

"I am supposed to be a myth." Methos reminded him.

"I always thought Darius would be the last of us." Duncan sighed.

"You mean that "there can be only one thing"?" Methos scoffed.

"It's what I was taught." Duncan resisted the temptation to hold his breath.

 "Mistranslation is a terrible thing,  Methos sighed. "John Donne knew what he was taking about."

"No man is an Island." Duncan recalled.

"Exactly, we are all connected. By who we love, and teach, and know. By the choices we make." Methos said meaningfully.

"The eternal struggle. Good verses evil," Duncan realized. "That's the Prize? Only one will triumph?"

"Maybe, " Methos looked at his empty bottle. "Is there any more beer?"

"Here, you take him for a bit," Duncan gently shoved Richie over onto Methos. "I'll go and see."

Methos accepted his new burden with only a token grunt.

"And in the last days," Methos intoned softly, in a language which had long since gone out of use, "in a place out of time, the last shall meet the first, each carrying, the strength and hope of all with them, and so it will be decided and henceforth there will be only one power across the face of the earth."

"You know," he looked down at the young man, destined to carry the hopes of the world on his shoulders. "I really thought you would be taller."

***

That's it folks. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I have an idea for a sequel – where Richie will (quite literary) get to save the world – if anyone out there is interested???


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